


Some Have Greatness Thrust Upon Them

by Short_Not_Bread



Category: She's the Man (2006)
Genre: Duke Orsino is an oblivious bisexual, FTM, I rewatched the film and decided that Shakespeare would want this to be gayer, I tried to be wholesome, Trans Viola, Transphobia, Victor Hastings, brief mention of parental death due to cancer, deadnaming, most of the characters are gay, reference to dysphoria, reference to transphobia, so i did it, we have a couple of token straights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 06:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30068400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Short_Not_Bread/pseuds/Short_Not_Bread
Summary: “Tada!” Mom swings the skirt of the dress high, as if a change in velocity will change her child’s mind about pink and frills. She wants a little girl who loves dresses and makeup, and Victor is none of those things.Unable to play soccer at Cornwall, trans boy Victor jumps on the idea of attending rival school Illyria by posing as his twin for three weeks.It’s foolproof for dealing with the trials of high school soccer, but doesn’t prepare him for the crush on his roommate, his lab partner’s interest in him or the friends he makes along the way that – just maybe – he doesn’t want to let go of.Trigger warnings: reference to dysphoria, reference to transphobia, transphobia (in scenes involving Monique and Justin), reference to parental death via cancer
Relationships: Minor Eunice/Kia, Minor Eunice/Toby, Minor Horatio Gold/Coach Dinklage, Minor Olivia/Sebastian, Onesided Olivia/Viola, Viola Hastings/Duke Orsino
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Some Have Greatness Thrust Upon Them

**Author's Note:**

> When I rewatched She's The Man during lockdown, my first thought was that this could be gayer - a lot gayer. One of my biggest thoughts was what would happen if Viola was actually a trans boy called Victor? How would his experience be changed? What started as a wondering became a few scene rewrites, then more scene rewrites, filler scenes and a lot of editing until two months later I finished the story and decided to set up an A03 account.
> 
> This work has been a labour of love. I wanted so badly to see a queer friend group who love and support each other, and to see a trans person accepted by the people close to them. 
> 
> While I identify as nonbinary, and have asked some of my transmasc friends to read over this work before posting, not all experiences within the community are alike and there may still be some inaccuracies. If anyone finds inaccuracies or trigger/content warning that I have failed to post please let me know.
> 
> For readers wishing to avoid the scenes involving transphobia, simply skip over the scenes involving Justin, Monique and Coach Pistonek
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

“Tada!” Mom swings the skirt of the dress high, as if a change in velocity will change her child’s mind about pink and frills. She wants a little girl who loves dresses and makeup, and Victor is none of those things. “Beautiful gowns for my darling debutante!"

“Urgh,” he summons a reply. “Have I not told you a thousand times that I have no interest in being a debutante?” Besides the frills and the archaism, the original French makes it very clear that the participants are girls.

He hauls himself away with his soccer ball in hand.

Mom’s enthusiasm doesn’t let up, especially once she hears the news about the cancelled soccer team which make her practically giddy with excitement, and she pursues him to the bottom of the stairs. “Well, Justin’s gonna love you in this!” She holds the dress up like a particularly beloved suit of armor.

“Yet another reason not to wear it – I dumped him; you know that.”

“And you still haven’t told me why you’d let such a handsome young man go! Those rugged shoulders . . .”

“Putting aside the fact that you are sexualizing a _teenager_ , Mom, someone of my own age, Justin has a terrible personality and his abs cannot compensate for his overinflated ego.”

That only makes her pause for a moment before Mom resumes the offensive again.

“Just picture this: we’re at the country club, they call your name and you emerge in this – tada!” she calls again with another swoosh of a gown that will swallow him alive if he puts it on.

“ _Mom_ , I told you no.” he disappears along the landing.

“Sometimes I think you just might as well be your brother,” she warbles at him, her heels marking her retreat in the downstairs hall.

Victor wishes. Their parents are already disappointed at having a musician in the family; telling them that they don’t have a daughter isn’t going make that feeling any lighter.

“Hey,” Sebastian greets him as Victor flumps down on his twin’s bed, Sebastian gathering music sheets from his desk and stuffing them into a duffel bag. “What’s up?”

“Monique’s a bitch and Mom is still talking about frills.”

“Gross. Can’t help you with Mom, but I can tell Monique to back off again if you want.”

“Thanks,” Victor grins. “All that shit she did before and I’m the reason you break up with her?”

“Hey, she might be hot, but no one messes with my little brother,” Sebastian launches himself onto the bed to noogie his twin.

“Ten minutes! We shared a womb! We drank the same womb juice!”

“Gross,” Sebastian snorts and lets go, walking back to the other side of the room. “How can you say that to me and still not dissect anything in biology?”

“It’s the smell, makes me gag.”

“You stink way worse after soccer practice,” comes the retort. “How come you’re not there now?”

“Cancelled. Permanently.” Victor looks down. “The girls team got cut and you know why – why they won’t let me play on the boy’s team.”

“Those assholes,” Sebastian snarls.

“Don’t,” Victor warns.

“I swear, those little -”

“I know,” Victor clenches his fist in Sebastian’s bedsheets. “It’s so much bullshit, but at least Justin’s still got those stupid little stickers holding his nose in place, the fucker. Coach isn’t looking much better either, so don’t fuck them up again, ok? You’re starting at Illyria on Monday and you can’t afford to get a criminal record for being kicked out of another school. It was bad enough trying to convince Dad you had a reason for what you did so that he could lawyer you out of it.”

“Yeah, well, he won’t have to this time.”

“Good. You’d look shit in juvie uniforms.” Victor narrows his eyes as Sebastian throws a bag out of his window, ducking his head under the frame to check where it landed. “You know you can use the front door?”

“But Mom can’t see me; she thinks I’m staying at Dad’s, Dad thinks I’m staying at Mom’s, in two days they both think I am going to school – _that_ is the beauty of divorce!”

“Where _are_ you going?” Victor lies back onto his twin’s bed, rolling his soccer ball between his hands.

“London, for about three weeks,” Sebastian says casually, as though he’s only going to Walmart and back.

“As in London, _England_?”

“Yeah, my band got a slot in a music festival there.”

“Ok, what are you gonna do about school?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian lowers another bag out of his window with a length of rope, “I was kinda hoping you could help with that. Could you just like . . . pretend to be Mom or Dad, call Illyria, tell them I’m sick – something good that sounds like it would last for two weeks like . . . Mad cow.”

“Sebastian, you _just_ got kicked out of Cornwall for fighting!” Victor sits up. “You can’t! Even Dad won’t let you off the hook for this one.”

“Neither of them will know.”

“Until Illyria calls!”

Sebastian scoffs. “Yeah, ‘cause Cornwall called about all of the problems people were giving you.”

“This is serious!”

“Just phone them up, tell them I’ve got the flu or something, no one will know. Worst comes to worst,” Sebastian hauls himself onto his windowsill after dropping his luggage down, “you can pretend to be me.”

“ _Sebastian_!”

The idiot has already dropped himself out of the window.

The crazy thing about an idea like that is that it doesn’t just go away; it lingers with Victor until he can’t stand it.

He calls Kia first, to see if it’s as crazy as he thinks it is. She responds with enthusiasm, so he calls Yvonne next to troubleshoot. Yvonne says they’re going to need Paul.

“Come on, Paul!”

“No,” is the immediate response. “Helping you with your binder and your wig and your makeup for school – that’s one thing, but this? Pretending to be your brother? You’ve taken way too many soccer balls to the head.”

“It’s perfect!” Victor declares.

“No one at Illyria has even met Sebastian!” Yvonne backs him up. “No one would even know the difference.”

“Come on, Paul!”

“Yeah, come on, Paul!”

“Yeah, come on Paul!” the regular in the chair, a sweet old lady who has only ever known Victor by one name, joins their cause. “Let the boy have a clean slate for once!”

That’s what it boils down to really – a clean slate. Victor is a boy, but everyone has called him by a different name for most of his life, known a warped version of himself so that he could be safe. He is so, _so_ tired of being in the wrong skin. What is it like for people to use your actual pronouns from the get-go? What is it like to be called ‘young man’ and ‘bro’ by people outside his immediate circle? What does it say about him that the thought makes him feel light in the head?

He wants people to treat him like he’s just another guy. Helping Sebastian out is more of a side gig, really.

Paul sighs. He must know the feeling; out of everyone, surely Paul must understand the most.

“OK,” Paul relents. “Let’s get to work.”

* * *

Victor’s in the Illyria parking lot with his things, all marked with an Illyrian logo when a random stranger calls out a greeting to him.

“What’s up?”

Victor nods and smiles in response. As soon as they pass by, he whips back to face Paul in a panic.

_“Oh my god they knew.”_

He ducks right back into the car. He can’t do this, it was a stupid idea, he can’t –

“Victor,” Salva, Paul’s boyfriend addresses him from the back seat, interrupting the volley of words that he and Paul are slinging at each other. He lightly places a hand on top of the box Victor is holding. “Remember why you wanted this. A clean slate. Paul told me you were brave; that is why I gave you one of my wigs. Top quality. You can do this, _Lindo_.”

Somehow, Salva’s calm tone and use of the male diminutive are what allow him to start settling back into himself.

“I can do this,” he breathes.

“You can do this,” they reassure him.

He’s trying not to panic for reasons completely unrelated to gender as he makes his way to and through the halls. There’s some kind of sign-up fayre. Why is there a marching band here? There are so many people – calling, carrying boxes like his, throwing footballs back and forth. Is that a boombox?

It’s manic.

He closes the door on his – Sebastian’s – room and startles when he sees the three other guys already there.

“Duke Orsino,” his – _hot_ – shirtless roommate introduces himself. “This is Toby and Andrew, they live next-door.” Hot shirtless roommate and his friends also play soccer, mentioning the upcoming trials. None of them seem too bothered by Victor’s mild awkwardness until the tampons fall out.

“Why do you have tampons?”

 _Fuck_. Why would any cis guy have tampons?

“I get really bad nosebleeds.”

"What?”

He’s panicking. All he can think of is how when Sebastian broke Justin’s nose the blood that came out kind of looked like a period, which seemed like poetic justice after the fighting and bureaucracy was all over.

It’s a bullshit explanation, but the whole point of coming here is that people think he’s cis so he just keeps ploughing through the waves of embarrassment that roll through him as he unwraps a tampon and shoves it into his nostril.

“It absorbs right up!”

He tries not to die or flip out when either Toby or Andrew declares him a freak. _It’s not for those reasons_ , he reminds himself. He might be a freak, but here he’s the cis freak.

“I’m allergic to the sun.”

One of these days, Victor is going to run out of bullshit excuses, and someone is going to call him out for it.

The bald, grouchy coach of the Illyria soccer team looks him up and down like he can’t believe the stupidity that’s come out of Victor’s mouth. Neither can Victor, to be fair.

“Hastings,” he addresses Victor, then checks his clipboard after a couple of cutting remarks. “You’re a shirt.”

They run to warmup before doing tackling work, quick steps over the ladders, foot maneuvers around the cones, passing and control drills, shooting, more control work, then those stupid basic strength tests just to finish him off. Are pushups meant to do this to him? He’s dead.

Soccer’s never made him feel like this before – he already knows that Cornwall was sexist by not giving before the ladies team a coach for years until they were finally cut, but he never realized what an actual difference it would make. He wishes he could take his jumper off, but even if these people knew about him and were cool with it, it’s – it’s not a good day. Victor tries to swallow, but his mouth just feels dry and raspy, like he’s already sweated everything out.

All that sweat and he still only makes second string, while Hot Roommate Duke and his friends make first. Cis, built like a god and a gifted athlete? Victor isn’t sure if the heat he’s feeling in his cheeks is from jealousy or attraction; at the very least, everyone else will think that his appearance is from exertion.

“Shower time . . .” another second stringer breathes in relief back at the locker rooms, and Victor feels the heat in his cheeks drop to his stomach and turn to ice. There is no excuse, no reason that he can use to get out of –

“Hastings!” The coach barks as Toby and Andrew shoulder past. “No shower for you.”

“OK,” he’s smiling like an idiot, but right now all he feels is relief.

“Principal Gold wants to see you in his office.”

He rushes out before he’s finished processing the words.

One day he really will run out of bullshit excuses, but today is not that day.

Illyria is just as big as Cornwall, if not bigger, so of course he gets lost and has to ask for directions from a nerdy looking girl with curly hair and glasses. She says her name is Eunice and offers her pronouns before asking for his. _Nice_. If Victor was into girls, he would totally find that hot; as it is, it makes him feel safer.

He asks about the pins she wears. She gets a little shy all of a sudden and explains that they’re the flags for pansexuality and polyamory. She tells him that she’s part of the GSA.

“That’s really cool,” he admires.

“You should come if you want,” Eunice tells him, giving him the room number and weekly meeting time after talking about a few of the activities they do.

“Thanks,” Victor says genuinely. “I’ll think about it.”

Eunice didn’t ask. Victor’s used to being the walking representative for trans people, and it’s nice to not be interrogated about his lack of cishet-conformity whenever people realize that he’s not straight.

He’s so calm from the encounter that he actually manages to forget Eunice was leading him to the Principal’s office.

 _Shit_.

What the hell has Sebastian done now? Maybe it’s not about what he’s done now and what he did at Cornwall that the principal wants to talk to him about, but if that’s the case then why didn’t this talk happen before Sebastian was enrolled at Illyria?

It can’t be about that, which means they’ve been rumbled. Sebastian was caught on the flight to London, or the tampon story has spread and now they know they’ve got the wrong twin at Illyria.

Victor curses under his breath, undoing the bandages around his chest – his binder isn’t meant to be worn while doing sport – and curses his brother some more. It’s over, done, it’s –

“Hello there!”

 _Shit_. He stuffs the bandages back under his jumper.

“I’d like to say welcome. Welcome to Illyria, welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome to Illyria!” The principal singsongs to Victor, giving him a genial welcome speech and a seemingly genuine offer for any possible outreaches before sending him on his way.

Somehow, the principal being an actual swell and friendly guy has thrown him even more off-kilter than if he was mean or threatening. Victor wasn’t expecting nice.

He blames this daze for walking into the blonde person and knocking over all the books in their arms; he crouches down to help pick them up. Principal Gold pokes his head out of his office at the noise, delivering a strange speech about male-female interaction that Victor isn’t sure is 100% accurate before the only adult in this situation apparently becomes overwhelmed with his own awkwardness and shuts the door again.

The person he knocked into releases a gentle laugh after the door closes, like this is a habit the principal has that they’re fond of.

“Is he always that friendly?”

“Are you kidding? That’s him being rude,” the laugh comes easily, like it’s something that this stranger does often. The smile grows even wider when Victor complements their shoes.

“My friend loves that brand,” he says by way of explanation, which is true. Kia drags them in for every sale, and since Victor came out to her they now spend a healthy amount of time in the men’s section as Kia desperately tries to update his wardrobe. Apparently going to the Goodwill alone isn’t enough, and he should treat himself with something new more often, because ‘ _people have bought so many things for a version of you that doesn’t exist, and this is actually much cheaper than buying for a baby_ ’.

He doesn’t say all of that, but the stranger smiles anyway, like what he said was cute.

Victor breaks the moment suddenly and hurries away.

Apparently he’s still not too freaky for Duke, Toby and Andrew, because they let him sit at their table for lunch.

“So that Cornwall game should be interesting, right?”

“And why would that be interesting?” Duke quips with food halfway to his mouth.

“Well, my brother goes there, and he used to date that tool, Justin Drayton.”

The other guys burst into laughter. Victor freezes. Shit, is he rooming with a homophobe?

“I know Justin,” Duke grins, “I made him cry once during a game.”

“Wait,” Victor pauses, “that was you?”

“Absolutely,” Duke takes credit immediately. “It was so funny. Dude was screaming about being a real man, but he couldn’t take it when I scored against him.”

“Is your brother hot?” Toby throws the curveball at Victor with a tilt of his head.

“What?” Victor says stupidly.

Andrew laughs; Duke drops his food down to his plate with a groan.

“Not for me,” Toby reassures him, “but Duke could really do with -”

“Incoming!” Andrew coughs into his hand; the three of them snap into seemingly casual positions that remain unconvincing as they pretend not to observe the person Victor ran into earlier.

“Are you dating or something?” Victor teases as Duke blushes viciously.

“He wishes,” Andrew guffaws. “That’s Olivia. Until recently she was dating this college guy, but he dumped her, and I hear she’s a total mess right now – like really vulnerable, confidence and self-esteem is way down.”

The conversation pauses as someone in a blazer passes their table.

“Urgh, I hate that guy,” Duke grips his plastic cutlery tightly.

There’s a smarmy, self-assured smirk on the stranger’s face as he sits down next to Olivia and her friend.

“Did you know baloney is 38% hoof?” Blazer Guy picks up Olivia’s sandwich.

“Thanks, Malcolm,” Olivia takes back her food with as much displeasure Victor would feel if an uninvited person started playing with his food in a weird and disappointing approximation of flirting.

“Uh oh, looks like you’ve got some competition,” Victor teases Duke again.

“It’s just Malcolm,” he replies plainly, unthreatened.

“Total geek!” Andrew fills in.

“That geek is sitting right next to Olivia,” Victor points out.

“Yeah, because she seems real interested,” Duke stabs at his food.

“At least she knows Malcolm exists,” Victor counters jokingly.

“She knows I exist.”

“Yeah, but when are you gonna talk to her, man?” Toby backs Victor up. “You’ve been crushing on her for forever. It’s been what, two years since you and Will broke up?”

Duke wrinkles his nose through a mouthful of his lunch.

“She knows you like girls too, right?” Andrew checks.

“Of course she – I kissed Alice Freeman at that party last year! Everyone saw, she must know I like girls.”

“You’ve dated someone who’s not a girl before?” Victor asks.

“I’m bi,” Duke says casually, but lifts his head like it’s a habit when he tells people, looking at Victor directly.

“Ok,” Victor accepts easily.

“It’s not a big deal,” Duke looks down and stabs his food.

“It’s chill,” Victor says. Honestly, it soothes his nerves about the Illyrian soccer team a little.

Duke lifts his head again, as if picking up on how genuinely relaxed Victor is, then goes right back to eating as if nothing happened.

The showers that evening are empty – _finally_! He’s so busy celebrating that he nearly doesn’t see Malcolm come in in time.

“Shower shoes are to be worn in the bathroom at all times, except when in the actual shower!” Malcolm berates Victor after scaring him half to death with his loud-ass gasp from behind.

“Did you not read your dorm life pamphlet?”

How is he going to get this guy to shut up?

“It was in your cubby,” Malcolm adds snippily. He’s so focused on lecturing Victor that he doesn’t notice Duke entering until he’s already been taken out with a towel around the back of his head; Blazer Guy goes down with a high-pitched howl.

“Sup,” Victor smirks.

“Hey,” Duke replies with a small smirk of his own, setting his stuff down at the sink next to his.

Victor wants to talk. He wants to joke around with Duke and have his shower, but even if Malcolm’s presence in the room wasn’t already throwing him off, he’s not ready for Duke to not know that he’s trans; at least he wasn’t so prepared for his shower that he’d taken his binder off before Malcolm interrupted.

He adjusts the hair of his wig awkwardly before heading back to their room.

He really hopes his deodorant is strong enough to cover his smell tomorrow.

Victor is woken by a bucket of water, the feeling of being grabbed and others lifting him; he almost releases a scream that he reframes into a shout.

There are masked figures holding torches and shouting orders: initiation. Remove clothes.

He can’t –

He crouches to the floor; he’s small enough that they can’t see him. _Crawl_. Exit, there’s got to be –

A fire alarm. He pulls it, nearly pulls the arm out of his socket in desperation.

Water; lights.

He runs.

Soon, everyone is outside and he slips among them.

Somehow, he manages to find a relatively private bush to throw up in.

The next morning is the worst of his life.

He’s tired, sleep deprived, dysphoric and alone. His social life is awkward at best, non-existent at worst. Last night he was nearly outed. Also, he stinks.

He can’t do this, he’s calling Paul.

Together, Paul and Salva calm him down over the phone, and Paul has an idea.

Cesario’s smells amazing, but that’s not why they’re here. Apparently, Victor is here so that Kia can grind on him and he can slap Yvonne’s butt in front of his roommate.

Monique is not a part of the fucking plan.

“Don’t let her get close enough to see you, she’ll know the difference!” Paul advises as Salva delays her approach.

“Sebastian?” Monique shrieks through the pizza parlor again. “Sebastian!”

“Keep away from me!” Victor uses a pair of jugs to hide his face, depositing them on the next table over.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t come any closer, Monique!” He squeezes past other customers in a bid to escape in the wrong fucking direction.

“Sebastian!”

“I don’t wanna talk to you, _crazy_!” He attempts to use a menu as his next disguise before the server snatches it back. “It’s over!” He backs away, seeking an escape.

“We’re not done until I say so!” she ducks around another server. “Is this still about your sister? _Come here_!”

“I don’t have a sister!” Victor ducks around behind the serving counter. “But you’re being a massive bitch to my brother!”

“Oh, come on, it’s just a phase! _Sebastian_ – she just wants to get out of being a debutante for some weird, freaky reasons – Sebastian!”

“You were a phase, Monique, and I moved on! Transphobia is not sexy!” The staff bat him away from the direction of the ovens; most of the joint is looking at them now.

“At least I’m woman enough to get dressed in my own changing rooms!”

“My brother’s a man and you’re _definitely_ no lady! You’re barely even human before your Daddy hands over his credit card so you can make yourself look like a budget barbie!” He takes a huge stack of pizzas from a nearby server exiting the kitchen. “There are plenty of hot girls out there, but the truth is you have nothing to offer!”  
He foists the enormous pile onto her. “You’re ugly inside and out! We’re _done_!”

She shrieks one last time, drops the pizzas and crackles out of the parlor in a pink, prejudiced show of entitlement.

It feels even better when the restaurant applauds him, and a lesbian couple near the door scream “Out with the TERFs!”

Duke, Toby and Andrew immediately hail him to their table, clapping him on the back.

“It was good of you to stand up for your brother like that,” Duke comments.

“It’s my brother,” Victor shrugs, trying not to act like it’s a big deal. _God_ , it felt good to get rid of her.

“Crazy people like that,” Duke shakes his head. “You don’t just get to decide who someone else is.”

“What’s your brother’s name again?” Toby asks.

“Victor,” he smiles, remembering that he’s borrowing Sebastian’s name at the last moment.

“Wait, so your brother is trans?” Andrew asks for confirmation.

“Yeah,” Victor lifts his head a little, subconsciously still prepared to be challenged on this. “He is.”

“Dude, that’s gotta be rough on your brother, having to figure that out and then deal with people like her,” Duke runs his head through his hands as the guys absorb the situation. “Do your parents know?”

“No,” Victor admits, feeling both eased and abashed by the concern on each of their faces and tacking on; “but it’s cool – me and my brother, we’ve got each other.”

“That’s cool,” Duke accepts, with Andrew and Toby nodding in agreement.

Something in Victor’s chest feels like it’s been dislodged a little, a pain he’s had for so long he stopped noticing it. Sitting in Cesario’s with the three other guys, it almost feels like there’s more air in his lungs.

It feels like he can breathe.

“How come you didn’t tell us about your brother before?” Duke asks later that night back in their room just before lights out.

“It didn’t come up,” Victor shrugs, both of them on their respective beds, Duke sitting with a soccer ball, Victor lying back and looking up at the ceiling. “And it’s not like we’ve spent a lot of time together so far – I’ve only been here a couple of days.”

The sound of Duke shrugging against his sheets travels across the room. “Stick with us if you want. I don’t get the whole tampon thing, but you’re cool and you’ve got guts, plus,” he rolls over onto one elbow, “I think we could all use a little of your advice.”

“Advice on what?”

A shuffling sound.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but Andrew was trying to hit on our waitress today at Cesario’s.”

Victor snorts. “I think being nice is part of her job.”

“I know, not that he seems to get it when we tell him that she just wants his tips to be able to make minimum. You’ve got game though; he might listen if it comes from you.”

“If she can’t say no, that’s not consent and that’s not sexy.”

“Try passing that onto him.”

“I will.”

Another stretch of silence. Victor rolls onto his side to face Duke fully.

“I want to play soccer as good as you,” he confesses.

A snort. “If you were as good at soccer as you are at hitting up girls, I think coach would pay you to stay here forever.”

They laugh into the darkness.

“Honestly,” Duke admits quietly, “I could probably use your advice too.”

“You do?”

“I’m no good with girls! I mean, I like them, and they like me, but I don’t know how to talk to them! It’s like there’s a whole other language and culture that I don’t know how to speak.”

“Girls do have their own culture,” Victor affirms. “But if you want to get better you mostly have to do that yourself – ask the girls themselves.”

“It’s not that simple, man, and I don’t even know where to start.”

“It’s ok dude, you’ll get it.”

Victor hears Duke release a sharp breath. It sounds like resignation.

“Well, how do you talk to _guys_ you like?” Victor prompts.

“I don’t know, I just do it. I don’t have to work things out. It’s easier.”

“Do you think that maybe you find it easier because you just don’t get all nervous like you are now? Just be yourself and see what happens.”

Duke barks a laugh. “You’re a smooth talker, Hastings.”

“It’s what I do.”

“How long did you date that girl for anyway?” Duke asks the next day. Science class hasn’t started yet, and they’ve got time to spare.

“Too long,” Victor rolls his eyes thinking about it.

_'I’m a barbie girl in a barbie world . . .'_

He instantly scrabbles for his phone to shut it off.

“Urgh,” he groans down at the phone. “My ex, Justin.”

“Didn’t you say Justin dated your brother the other day?” Duke raises an eyebrow.

“I did?”

“Do you and your brother have the same taste in guys or something?” Andrew quips. “Talk about keeping it in the family.”

“What? No, it’s not like that, it – it’s complicated, ok?” Victor scrambles. The others roll their eyes but don’t get the chance to push the issue.

“Oh my god,” Duke shrinks in on himself and hides his face all of a sudden. “Oh my god, _she’s in our class_!”

Victor looks over and sees Olivia entering the classroom.

“Dude, you can’t crumble before you’ve even spoken to her.”

“ _Shut up_!” Duke makes a poor show of defending himself by hissing through gritted teeth.

Their science teacher approaches, bearing a glass jar with paper slips for them to pick out a lab partner.

“Eunice Bates,” Duke reads off in a monotone voice. Next to him, Toby makes an aborted gesture of frustration and jealousy. “You gotta be kidding me.”

Victor immediately slaps his arm. “Be nice,” he scolds Duke, Toby backing him up with a solid “Yeah!”.

Victor noticed how Eunice’s eyes lit up when she heard Duke say her name; he can’t take that away from someone who helped him randomly and understands the pronoun thing. Besides, he’s pretty sure that Duke would collapse if he got too close to Olivia.

“She got a little something-something,” Toby tries to hype up Eunice, looking her up and down. Victor is pretty sure that the little something Toby is referring to is just his own crush on her.

Duke nods to Eunice; when she waves at their group; Toby and Victor wave back.

“Olivia Lennox,” Victor reads off his own piece of paper. Olivia must hear her name because they wave at each other.

“Boy, you know her?” Duke leans forward.

“Talked to her for like, a second.”

“About what? She gave you the nod!”

“Yeah, a good one too!” Andrew backs him up.

“Ok, can everyone please calm down?” Victor asks, attempting to diffuse the sudden rise in heartrates.

“I can’t believe you got her as a lab partner,” Duke moans. “Switch with me!”

“I can’t!” Victor replies, tugging the paper away from Duke’s attempted snatch. “I said her name out loud!”

He’s pretty sure he hears Andrew making a comment about how some guys get all the luck as he picks up his books to move to Olivia’s table.

Going to take his place at the desk, Victor notices how all the pairs are made up of one boy and one girl. What is this, mating season? Are they paired together like that because the teacher believes the false stereotype that somehow the girls will be well-behaved and good enough to rein in the boys’ presumably careless behavior? Talk about a lazy teaching strategy. What kind of cishet bullshit is this?

At least Olivia seems cool to take the lead on actual dissections; he doesn’t want to bomb Sebastian’s grades by not completing a practical in his name.

“Wow – most guys would never admit that,” Olivia notes.

“Oh crap, you’re right,” Victor mutters. What kind of reputation will his brother have by the time he actually arrives at Illyria?

“No, no, don’t worry!” Olivia tries to reassure him, putting her hands over the top of his. “I think it’s actually really refreshing.”

“No paper near the bunsen burners!” Malcolm appears out of nowhere to seize the sheet that’s fallen out of his pocket and just like that, Sebastian’s song lyrics are in Olivia’s hands.

 _And she likes them_.

Crap. She’s looking at him like Kia looks at girls in the library, like she wants to become significantly more acquainted with his mouth, except that it’s not his words she was struck by, they were Sebastian’s – and it was not part of the plan to accidentally catfish and acquire a girlfriend ready for his brother’s return.

It also suddenly occurs to Victor that he forgot to let his twin know about his crazy plan – and that he went through with it. _Crap_. Whatever. It was Sebastian’s idea, anyway. He can deal with it when he gets back.

Duke pulls him aside after class – literally, grabbing his blazer and pulling him into a chair and snapping for an underclassman to leave them alone.

“Did you say anything about me?”

“No, was I supposed to?”

“This- this is perfect! You get to spend an hour with her every other day; you can convince her to go out with me!”

“Dude, she had that option for like, three and a half years.”

“Ok, I’ll tell you what, you do this, and I’ll work with you on your soccer, I’ll make you good enough to make first string.”

“By the Cornwall game?” Victor asks with tentative hope.

“Absolutely,” Duke brags.

And maybe Victor’s a complete sucker, but hell, he’s in.

“You got a deal.”

“You the man.”

“Yes, I am.”

* * *

The way Duke plays soccer, it’s like Sebastian with his music, Paul with his styling, Kia with her eyeliner, Yvonne with her writing. He plays the sport the way Salva speaks Spanish; fluidly and fluently. His movements are the reason why soccer is still known as the beautiful game.

His bicycle kick is a work of art, and Victor aches to replicate it.

When they get up in the mornings – early enough that it’s still dark – they don’t focus on that. “No point if you can’t see the ball,” Duke points out. They go back to basics, tearing Victor’s technique apart because he hasn’t had a coach in years, but the echoes of his skill coming roaring back louder every day.

“How come no one ever corrected you before?” Duke asks one time.

“There wasn’t anyone to teach me.”

“What do you mean? There are coaches everywhere.”

“Not for me.”

Duke looks at Victor like he’s an enigma. Victor doesn’t want to keep him in the dark.

“My parents didn’t stop me playing from soccer, but they didn’t exactly approve of it either. They think other things are more important, you know?”

“Sounds like the opposite of my dad,” Duke responds. “I don’t think he ever missed a major game, and when he realized it was something that I loved he was ecstatic. He wanted me to use this to get a scholarship, for college. Said he wanted me to do great things.”

“Said?”

“He died a few years ago. It – it was rough, but he was sick for a few months. Prostate cancer. It wasn’t sudden, we had time together, and he left me a bunch of things for when I got older, you know, milestones and stuff – but if you can afford it, make sure you get checked out, Hastings. These things sneak up on you.”

“I will.”

They go back to Victor’s technique and don’t talk about it again. Some things only need to be said once.

* * *

“Keep your knees high!” Coach bellows at the assorted teenagers.

Training with both the Illyria soccer team and Duke is different; different drills, different exercises, all leading to different muscles aching at the end of the day, but it’s a good ache. It’s not painful, it just feels like he’s worked.

He shoulders his bag after Duke has left and heads for the showers on the far side of campus, the ones that he’s worked out don’t have anyone in them around mealtimes as everyone heads to the cafeterias and eateries.

Locking himself in the disabled shower area, he carefully removes his wig, wrappings and makeup, trying not to look too much at his body before stepping in the shower and cleaning himself as efficiently as possible.

It’s a relief, when he gets out, to step into clean sweats before reapplying his makeup and crowning himself in his wig. Back in his binder, he stalks back to his room and grabs a set of laundry.

The washing machines in this place still don’t make sense to him, but most of his stuff fits in fine, and it starts turning so he’s not too worried. He’s about to walk away when he realizes that his spare binder’s mixed up in the load he just put in, _which will kill it_ and ordering them the first time – and the second because he ordered the wrong size initially – was difficult enough, even with Sebastian helping to keep an eye out for the mail and being ready to distract their parents.

He can’t lose this one.

The machine won’t turn off, won’t stop the rotations. He’s losing his mind and he can’t afford this right now. In a fit of desperation, he somehow wrenches the door open, spilling water and suds onto the floor. He’s only just managed to retrieve the binder from the mound when he realizes someone is watching, looking back to see –  
“Eunice,” Victor chokes, desperate. “You can’t tell anyone.”

She looks shocked, but not horrified. Belatedly, he remembers that she’s part of the GSA, so her reaction is probably more to do with the fact that he just ripped open a washing machine with his bare hands and flooded the room than her recognizing what he’s holding.

“I won’t.”

“Great. Thanks, I -” without another word or explanation, he bolts from the launderette in terror, abandoning his other clothes to their fate.

“You get the strangest care packages,” Duke comments later after returning to their room. Victor looks up from their biology homework. “Someone left a bunch of clean laundry for you in a bag by the door; there’s a note on top.”

Victor bolts past his roommate to the bag, nearly knocking Duke over.

Eunice’s note promises once again not to tell anyone what happened, but that if he needs help with the machines in future, he can come ask her.

“That’s nice,” he comments absent-mindedly.

“What is?”

“Eunice. Turns out she did me a favor. You’re pretty lucky she’s your lab partner.”

Duke shrugs. “She’s nice, kinda weird like you were at the start, but nice like you said. I just wish Olivia was my partner instead.”

“Okay,” Victor stands up, “what’s the deal with Olivia? Why her? There are loads of girls around.”

“She’s hot.”

“That’s it?” Victor quips after Duke doesn’t continue. “Do you actually know anything about her?”

“I want to know more about her,” Duke asserts, “but I, well . . .”

Victor raises an eyebrow. Duke rubs the back of his neck and mumble-groans something that Victor can’t make out.

“What?”

“I already told you, I don’t know how to talk to girls,” Duke gestures as he speaks.

“It’s ok, we can work on that.”

“How?”

“Back when we were kids, before he came out as trans, my brother and I would swap places all the time. I think that must have been when he worked out that he was a boy, but it meant that I got pretty good at imitating what girls are like.”

“So, you want to pretend to be your brother . . . as if he was a girl?”

“Look, the language isn’t perfect, but the point is that no one caught on and I picked up on a few social cues, now come on,” he summons Duke to his feet away from the desk. Duke raises an eyebrow but follows; Victor strikes a pose and begins with a high voice.

“Hi Duke, my name is . . . uh . . .”

“Francine?” Duke suggests.

“Fran – why Francine?” Victor breaks character in confusion, dropping from the exaggerated falsetto back to his regular voice.

“I don’t know, man, it was the first name that came into my head.”

“Francine sounds like my grandmother. You’re not allowed to flirt with my grandmother. You can’t just pick a name, it has to sound good, like, like . . .” he searches for the name, clicking his fingers when it hits him. “Verona.”

“Verona?” Duke snorts. “Seriously, are we in Italy or something?”

“Name choosing is a process! Look, we just need a filler name so you can practice flirting, so Verona it is!”

“Fine,” Duke waves off the debate with a smile. “Hi Verona.”

“Do you always sound like a bored scientist when you flirt? These microbes need to excite you!”

“These microbes are Italian, of course I’m excited!” Duke laughs.

“So act like it!” Victor taps Duke’s chest playfully. “From the top!

“Hi Duke, I’m Verona,” Victor says in a higher-pitched voice, hip cocked and hands poised coyly in a pantomime of feminine flirting.

“Hey, Verona,” Duke responds smoothly, body relaxed and angled towards Victor, eyes betraying his interest, at least in the game. Victor would be lying if he didn’t think that was hot.

They sway opposite each other, a flirtatious grin on each of their faces. Duke’s eyes have a surprising amount of gold in them.

“So . . .” Duke prompts. A pause. “Now what?”

Victor breaks again, laughing. “Now you ask me a question.”

“About what?”

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything your heart desires,” Victor replies in his usual voice, swaying.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Duke backs off a step with a laugh, hands up. “That’s so _intense_! What do girls want? Do I ask about college? Music?”

“It doesn’t have to be serious,” Victor reassures him, sinking back into a more masculine stance. “Although it should be about something you also might be interested in.”

Victor rocks back on his heels, trying to think of a conversation topic. “Ask me about . . . _cheese_.”

“Are you serious?”

“Ask me if I like cheese.”

“Ok, uh,” Duke steps towards Victor again, smiling through his nerves, stating the question a little uncertainly. “Do you like cheese?”

“Why yes, I do,” Victor pops back into the higher voice with exaggerated body language. “My favorite is Gouda, what’s yours?”

“Uh . . . brie?”

Victor giggles. “You don’t sound very sure about that.”

“Of course I’m sure!” Duke responds to the teasing. “Why wouldn’t I be sure? It’s cheese!”

“Well, there’s a lot out there.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t know what I like.”

“And what do you like?” Victor leans in, subconsciously. Opposite, Duke mirrors him.

“I . . .” Duke is so close to him, eyes alive but somehow soft and crinkled at the edge with his smile. “Dude!” the spell breaks suddenly. “We’re talking about cheese!”

“So what!” Victor tries to keep his tone light, pushing down the shock at . . . whatever that was ending. “Flow is _flow!_ You want to try again?” He slaps Duke’s chest in what he hopes is a friendly way. He hopes he didn’t sound too eager.

“I – _oh my god there’s a spider!”_

“What – _aargh!_ Why the _fuck_ is there a tarantula in our room?” Victor cries as they leap onto his bed as one, Duke throwing his arms around Victor for security. Unthinkingly, Victor throws his flailing arms around Duke too.

“How the fuck would I know?”

“Are tarantulas even native to the US?”

“Not to these parts!”

“Oh my god it’s coming closer!”

Duke’s reply is another scream and they simultaneously jump the gap to Duke’s bed in order to maintain optimum distance from the arachnid on their floor.

“Do we need to get the door? How did it get in? Did it come in when you came back?”

“Holy shit, it’s been here that long?”

“Get the door, Duke!”

“Why me?”

“You – you’ve got longer arms! Go!”

With a fearful groan, Duke bravely opens the door and leaps back on top of the bed to huddle with Victor.

 _“Come on, come on,”_ Duke urges the spider through gritted teeth.

“And . . . he’s gone! Shut the door!”

Duke falls onto it, slamming it into place and sliding the lock.

“Dude,” Victor says as they both breathe raggedly, recovering from the adrenaline rush.

“I’m so glad my bed’s furthest from the door,” Duke cracks a smile as his body slumps in relief. “I’ll be the last to get eaten if it comes back.”

 _“Dude!”_ Victor exclaims and hits him with a pillow, causing Duke to collapse on Victor’s bed, laughing. Victor snorts and slaps him with it a couple more times, Duke’s defense sloppy with laughter.

He gives him one more bop before chucking the pillow to the head of his bed and lies down next to Duke in the quiet.

The silence between them is full and contented. They’ll have to move at some point, but for now, they smile and laugh together, their breaths slowly syncing as they calm.

He’s done with soccer practice for the day, even after staying longer than anyone else, even after Duke had run through more stuff with him, and he’s just finished the shower when he realizes the day of the week, and the time on his watch.

The GSA meeting Eunice told him about will start in a little over ten minutes. He knows where it is, he could make it.

He tells himself he doesn’t have to go; he tells himself that he’s not taking the route that leads by the classroom because it passes them by but because it’s faster; he tells himself he doesn’t have to go in, even though he’s paused at the door –

“Sebastian?” Eunice has appeared beside him. “Are you coming in?”

“Uhh . . .” he fumbles for a response, sees her expression shifting. “Yeah, yeah I am.”

Cornwall didn’t have a GSA, it just had gay students and a problem with homophobia that enough of the teachers ignored for the bullies to get away with it. Victor has no idea what to expect from this place.

The classroom is just that – a classroom. The students are all sitting around the desks which have been arranged into a U shape, some of them waving when he and Eunice walk in.

“Take a seat anywhere,” Eunice tells him. “We’ll probably talk for a few more minutes before we get started.”

Victor chooses the spare seat that’s next to the person closest to the door, trying to gauge the conversation – complaining about algebra from the sounds of it.

“I’m gay, I can’t do math,” one of them groans. “It’s gotta be illegal, right Caleb?”

“Not illegal,” another student quips back. “And there are plenty of gays in scientific fields – just look at Leonardo Da Vinci.”

“He’s a gay genius, an exception to the rule,” the groaner dismisses.

“Alan Turing.”

“Stoooop!” comes the whining reply.

“Just accept your true calling as a theatre kid and go get your ADHD diagnosis already.”

“Quit calling out my lack of object permanence already,” they return with a smile, turning to Victor. “Can you believe this human? Caleb wants to do physics at college – that involves math and way too much patriarchal cishet bullshit.”

“Gotta make some sacrifices to join NASA, and if fulfilling a diversity quota is required to go to the moon then I shall willingly volunteer as tribute!”

“Nerd.”

“Dramatic.”

“Order!” Eunice calls out from the top of the U, emphasizing her point with a gavel. “Pronoun call! Eunice, she/her.”

“Rock, they/them.”

“Em, all pronouns.”

They go around the table, Victor trying to memorize as many as he can before the call reaches him. Caleb uses he/him and they/them; Sasha, the groaning theatre kid, uses she/her.

“Uh, Sebastian, he/him,” he recites when it’s his turn.

Eunice takes charge from there, asking how the week has been, how everyone is and if there have been any issues. A couple of people have been accidentally misgendered, but people have generally been correcting themselves and nothing major has come up. Someone has a new partner at a different school which gets a round of applause.

“And yes, the theme of the wedding will be the gay agenda,” they joke to a crackle of laughter.

“Speaking of celebrations, we should talk about what we’re doing for pride this year after we’ve gone over the asexuality awareness campaign,” Eunice remarks. “I bet Principle Goldstein and his husband will be willing to take part again.”

Huh. His first pride.

Except that Sebastian will be here instead by the time pride happens. Coming to this meeting was stupid, Victor’s risking his cover.

He tries to enjoy the rest of the time regardless and learns a lot – he’d never actually realized before that there were different sublabels of asexuality, although it makes sense considering that sexuality as a whole is a spectrum.

The meeting is over an hour long, and by the time it ends, Victor’s stomach is growling loudly.

“I should go before the cafeteria closes,” he excuses himself. “This was fun. I don’t know if I’ll be back with soccer practice and everything, but I had a good time. Thanks for having me.”

* * *

He tries calling his brother, but no one picks up.

“Dude, are you coming?” Duke is waiting by the door. “Thought you’d be ahead by now.”

“Yeah, I’m just coming,” Victor says, leaving his phone behind for their one-on-one session that evening.

* * *

Boots stomp over football stands. Compounds escape the glass in chemistry. Things are building, but nothing has changed, yet.

He grinds on coach by accident one time when he celebrates a practice goal, but that doesn’t count.

* * *

Sebastian is the one who initiates the call this time.

“Hey, how are you doing?”

“I’m doing great – Illyria is fantastic by the way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m kinda going to Illyria for you. My record at Cornwall is good enough anyway.”

“Holy shit, Vic, are you serious?”

“Sure am.”

“Well, uh, what have you been doing? Is it good? How’s my roommate?”

“Hot.”

“What?”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Please tell me that you haven’t slept with my roommate using my name.”

“No,” Victor groans. “He’s hung up on some pretty girl who liked your song lyrics.”

“She liked them?”

“Not the focus here.”

“I mean, it is kind of a big deal,” Sebastian states. “They love my songs here too – we’re doing encores every night!”

“Dude, that’s awesome! Are they recording any of your performances? I want to play the ‘my brother is famous’ card.”

Sebastian laughs. “They will on the last night, I’ll grab a copy then. When I fly back, are we gonna do the old switcheroo?”

“Brother, you read my mind.”

“How did you introduce you – uh, me?”

“They know Sebastian has a trans twin brother, but they think that Victor is the musician.”

“Dude, not cool.”

“I can’t write or play for shit, what was I supposed to do if they asked me for something on the spot?”

“Ok, whatever, we’ll figure it out, but I gotta go now. You take care, ok?”

“Always do. Love you bro.”

“Love you too.”

* * *

“I dunno, dude, I’m just not feeling the love.”

Duke groans and spins away in his desk chair, bouncing off the edge of his bed. “I would sell you my kidney right now for some of that, that – what is it again?”

“Garlic ciabatta.”

“Ciabatta! Man, I didn’t even know the canteen sells that kind of stuff.”

“They don’t, I think. I got it from Cesario’s.”

“You’re some kind of supervillain to be eating it in front of me like this when you know I’m hungry.”

“I’d probably be even more of a villain if I was keeping a spare one from you right now, wouldn’t I?”

“You didn’t.”

Victor reaches into his back to retrieve the forbidden item, tossing it to Duke.

 _“Yes!”_ Duke lifts it up to his face and breathes it in. Victor laughs at the expression he makes as he takes the first bite. “I don’t care what anyone says about you right now, you are my _hero!”_ he garbles through a mouthful.

“I wouldn’t speak so soon – I might be using it for leverage later.”

“Ulterior motives – _hot_.”

Victor tries to hide his blush – he doesn’t know how good of an actor he really is – but Duke is pretty distracted by the food.

“You can’t argue away morality with stuff like that,” Victor splutters, hoping to cover the situation with humor.

“It’s completely immoral to starve young athletes too.”

“You would make one corrupt mayor, taking all those bribes.”

“Pssht, no politics, I’d be a star – a model slash business mogul,” Duke argues. “Might have a fake Russian name and everything.”

“You have to drink if you’re Russian.”

“Maybe I’m defying the stereotypes – maybe I fund social programs the corrupt mayor won’t approve because he’s too busy embezzling money.”

“Look at you all noble, Robin Hood.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m plenty noble.”

“You know, I’d probably be more won over by that statement if you didn’t have cheese strings hanging out your mouth.”

“Gouda can suck it – I’m a mozzarella man.”

“So you do know what you like,” Victor shifts imperceptibly in his seat.

“I do,” Duke concurs, “and I have excellent taste.”

Principal Gold decides to give him another friendly heart attack when he catches Victor adjusting his wig – a necessary evil, since he has to keep his hair long for his parents not to suspect anything. Apparently attempting to feign a scalp condition to an already-bald man is not an effective strategy – who knew?

Victor is strangely thankful for male-pattern baldness all of a sudden. If he started taking hormones, would he be at risk of that? His Dad has more hair than Principal Gold at any rate.

“There’s gonna be a time when you’re gonna have to come out of the closet and just accept yourself for who you are,” Principal Gold says in what is meant to be a reassuring way. His words hit a little differently for Victor – does he know about that too? Does he suspect? He seems somewhat involved in the GSA, so whatever his intentions, at least he’s not malicious.

There are butterflies more malicious than Principal Gold; Victor is not so sure that his own intentions with Duke are as innocent when he invites him to the debutante carnival that weekend.

“It’s not much,” he shrugs, trying to act indifferently about it at their evening one to one. “It’s a kids carnival really, but they have pretty good prizes, and there’s normally a couple of things for older people too. I have to pull a shift to help my Mom out early on, but you could come along later.

“Andrew and Toby could come, too,” he tacks on at the end to make it sound less serious.

“Sure,” Duke accepts easily, passing him back the soccer ball. “When should I turn up?”

* * *

Sebastian Hastings is the most confusing person that Duke has ever known.

For one, he’s embarrassing, so much that it shouldn’t be possible, but mostly at things that no one else is aware of. Most of the time Duke only notices it because Sebastian’s shaking his head and muttering to himself under his breath again. His haircut doesn’t ever seem to sit the way he wants it to, his clothes hang funny and he picks weird moments to get squeamish.

But Duke likes him. For all that he’s awkward, Sebastian is genuine all the time, expressive and upbeat. He goes through the day like he’s grateful for everything, getting excited at random points; he banters with Duke during their classes, talks openly to him in the evenings, and in their training sessions his focus is like a knife point.

Sebastian might love soccer more than life itself, probably even more than Duke does. It’s not that Duke’s ever fallen out of love with football, but Sebastian is like the essence of the game itself despite his initially lacking discipline.

How has no one scouted Sebastian before? He should have been, from how fast he picks up the pace. If he had, they would have been playing together for years, maybe. Already, they’re starting to recognize each other’s signals more, both on and off the pitch – Andrew says they’re starting to look like the couple in Mr and Mrs Smith.

“I’m Angelina Jolie,” Duke shotguns when Andrew makes the comment at the end of practice one day.

“It’s the heels, isn’t it?”

Duke shoves Andrew playfully.

“Seriously though, how are you guys already this close?” Toby asks as Andrew reaches to muss Duke’s sweaty hair and misses. “You sure you’ve only known him for a couple of weeks?”

“You think I’d forget meeting someone like him?” Duke chucks Andrew a water bottle. “By the way, he invited us to some kind of carnival on the weekend.”

“All of us,” Toby motions for the water bottle as Andrew finishes, “or just you?”

“All of us.”

“You didn’t know your first date with Will was a date either,” Andrew reminds him with a grin.

“It’s not like that,” Duke feels the flutter of heat in his cheeks.

“Are you sure?” Toby raises an eyebrow.

“ _Yes_ , I’m sure,” Duke seizes the water bottle back and swallows the remains, stalking back off towards the buildings.

He looks back at the edge of field in time to see Sebastian attempt another bicycle kick, only just missing.

He’s getting closer.

* * *

The fairground is disgustingly cheerful, but better that he has a morning shift as Sebastian – quieter, and he’ll be free later – than an afternoon shift under his deadname.

“Sebastian, honey is that you?”

“Mom?” _Crap_. Victor ducks down behind the bench of the stall, trying to hide his face by using sorting through the register as an excuse. Thank God he’s wearing a baseball cap.

“Oh sweetheart, it’s so good to see you! How are you? Have you seen your -”

“Viola’s not gonna make it today, Mom,” he cuts in. “She’s sick. Not flu sick, but she might not make it to the debutante rehearsal dinner thing either. She didn’t want to let you down.”

“Oh, honey, you tell your sister that she could never let me down! She needs to rest up before the debutante ball, I should bring over some soup and -”

“You don’t need to do that!”

“Sweetie, I’m your mother, of course I’m going to take care of you both!”

“Mom, that’s not necessary, we’re just fine!”

“Sweetheart,” Mom plies softly after a pause. “Is everything ok? Are you and Viola fighting?”

“No, Mom.”

“Is it your dad, or the divorce, or -”

“No, Mom, that’s not it.”

“Sebastian, please talk to me baby. Viola’s already stopped talking to me and I need to know if something’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on,” Victor is growing more agitated. She’s not leaving and she’s the most likely person to discover that they’re doing ‘switcheroo’ again.

“I don’t think that’s true,” his mother pauses again. “I know there’s things that neither of you tell me, and that’s fine, but whatever is happening this time, I think we all know that it’s hurting both of you.”

“Mom, I . . .” what can he say?

“I love you both so much, baby, please let me help.”

Victor freezes. Should he . . .

But then he spies Cheryl’s head twitching across the field, no doubt looking for him or his mother, and that tentative feeling of safety is gone.

“I . . . I can’t.”

Mom sighs. “Ok,” she says, pulling back into herself a little bit, stitching her armor back together. “That’s fair enough. Now, about college -”

“ _Mom_.”

“I know that you don’t want to go, but I think it could really help you, even if you decide to drop out later. We can provide you with a college education, it really wouldn’t be a trouble – you could choose an English elective; we could even find one with a music track.”

“Mom . . .” he struggles for the words. She’d really do that? But he’s not Sebastian, and that’s something his brother has to work out for himself. “I . . . I have to think about it.”

“Ok, honey,” she accepts, preparing to go. “If you need me, I’ll -”

“Wait,” he vaults over the desk with an enormous cuddly prize held to hide his torso and face, squishing it between himself and his mother so that he can hug her without her knowing which twin she’s really holding. “Thank you.”

“Oh honey,” she hugs him back, just as tightly, “ _anything_ , anything you ever need.”

The conversation with his mother leaves him with a strangely soothed feeling that he doesn’t know what to do with, exactly. He texts his brother with an update on the interaction as people begin to enter the carnival.

Cheryl comes by at some point, but she’s easy enough to fool, and he waits in his corner of the carnival for his relief to come.

“Hey,” Olivia says to him at the end of his shift.

“Hey,” he smiles in greeting. “Register is all checked over, these are the scores that people need to win the different prizes, and we have a first-rate view of the clown on stilts who accidentally made a few of the kids cry.” Olivia laughs. “Have you seen Duke at all? I was supposed to meet him after my shift ended.”

“Oh, no, I haven’t,” Olivia says, sunny demeanor suddenly dampened. “You can wait for him here if you’d like!”

“Nah, it’s ok, I’ll just start looking. Thanks, though.” He picks up his rucksack from under the bench and leaves with a wave.

He should probably have talked Duke up some more, but he’s not really sure it’s a good idea. The fact is that Olivia just isn’t interested in his roommate – every time he’s mentioned Duke in their science class, Olivia has slid away from that subject as soon as she can, trying to redirect the conversation back towards Sebastian. He’s doing his best to impersonate his brother when he remembers, but Victor only likes Olivia platonically; anything else that’s going to change will happen once he’s already gone.

He doesn’t want to leave, though. He feels safe at Illyria. He has friends and a roommate that will back him up on and off the field. No one questions his gender. He has a life, even if it is a stolen one, one where he gets to play soccer with an actual coach while he and his teammates try to outmatch each other. He nutmegged Andrew the other day during practice. Duke had laughed so hard about it that he’d snorted the water he was drinking out of his nostrils, which really shouldn’t have been as adorable as Victor found it.

He’d stay just to watch Duke’s bicycle kick on repeat.

He needs to tell Duke about this, about what he’s done. Duke already knows that Victor is trans and Duke already seems to like the guy he thinks is Sebastian – now he just needs to know that Victor is using his brother’s name for a couple of weeks and then everything should work itself out, right?

It doesn’t matter if Duke doesn’t like him the way Victor likes Duke. He just wants to play football with Duke forever.

“I’m pretty sure even forever would be too long for you,” Paul quips, after he finds his Cornwall friends by the dodgems.

“Soccer isn’t the only thing you normally want to do with guys,” Kia teases him, “and you know this one isn’t a transphobe.”

“Yeah, but unfortunately, for some people being chill with the trans guy in the room is different from being ok with that same trans guy liking you.”

“It’ll be ok,” Yvonne reassures him. “You can’t get much worse than your last ex.”

“Urgh, don’t remind me,” Victor moans, as Yvonne rubs his back. He switches topics. “How is the team doing?”

“We’re still holding protests in the canteen every day, and a load of people have signed our petition, but I just don’t know if it’s going to be enough,” Yvonne sighs. “You know what the head is like.”

“We’re considering taking it to the media,” Kia admits. “Feminism is a fight that people are familiar with, at least.”

Yvonne scowls. “Wish they’d also fight racism, homophobia, ableism, antisemitism . . .” she trails off, disgruntled. She takes a second to look around at the carnival ground disdainfully. “God, this is the ultimate picture of picket fence cishets, isn’t it?”

“It’s cute,” Paul comments. “Could definitely be gayer – they’ve only got rainbow streamers over on that stall.”

“They’ve got the colors of the lesbian flag on the stand next to it,” Salva points out.

“The one with all the teddy bears to win?”

“Precisely, mi amor.”

“You want me to win one for you.”

“We have to show all these lovely people how exquisitely noble you are.”

“A quest!” Paul declares, bringing the back of his boyfriend’s hand to his lips. “I accept.”

They don’t succeed at the first stall, or the second. On the third Kia manages to land a small prize, but it’s on the fourth where Victor manages to persuade the guy running it – who seems equally harassed by Cheryl – to give them another round of attempts for free, and Paul finally lands a bear for Salva, who graciously accepts with a kiss.

“Well isn’t that adorable?” drawls an unwelcome arrival.

 _Fuck_.

Justin is disgusting and Victor wants to vomit. He takes his time insulting all of them; he starts with Salva and Paul, moving to a tasteful second course of misogyny, and finishing his address off with a touch of deadnaming.

Victor used to fantasize about those lips, about this person. Now those fantasies involve a little more burning in hell.

“Who the hell is Viola?” a new voice enters the altercation.

Victor just manages to stop himself from saying Duke’s name – he hasn’t met him as Victor.

“You’re Sebastian Hastings’ brother, right?” Duke asks him directly, voice a touch less aggressive.

Victor doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he nods instead.

“What do you want, Duke?” Justin drawls. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“You’re messing with my roommate’s brother,” Duke takes half a step between Victor and Justin, “so actually, it does.”

“Didn’t realize you were so ready to go at it again,” Justin bristles with an eagerness to fight.

“Didn’t realize your dick had shrunk anymore.”

There’s a tittering around them as Justin flushes red with anger.

“You want to watch yourself, Orsino,” he warns, the two of them angling at each other, like wild animals ready to pounce.

“You want to watch your mouth.”

“Just ‘cause yours has sucked more dicks than mine.”

“Says something that none of them were yours.”

Justin’s next tirade comes fast and hard. He doesn’t say anything new or even vaguely original, but that doesn’t stop the terrible words crashing over Victor, tearing his ability to react from him.

Duke is not so robbed; instead, his fist crashes into Justin.

Someone pulls Victor back and out of the way. Duke is fighting Justin. Justin is fighting back. Neither are winning – the fight has only just begun – but Victor vaguely speculates on how it would be ironic if Justin had his nose broken again.

He doesn’t see much of it. Yvonne and Kia pull him away back to Kia’s car. Yvonne sits with him in the back as they pry the necessary details from him so that Paul can find a way to explain to his mother how neither of her children are at the carnival.

The three of them go to a café and buy their favorite drinks.

“Paul says that Justin and your roommate got kicked out,” Yvonne reads from her messages after finishing half her iced coffee.

“Is Duke ok?” Victor asks, the first thing he’s said unprompted in the last half hour.

“I’ll check.”

“You feeling better?” Kia puts a hand on his.

Victor nods.

“Have you eaten anything in the last few hours?”

Victor shakes his head.

“I’m gonna go order sandwiches – you both want the usual?”

Victor nods.

“Paul and Salva don’t know about Duke, but Justin’s nose was definitely bleeding,” Yvonne informs him as Kia heads to the counter with their orders. “I hope that bastard’s spleen ruptured too.”

“So specific.”

“His penis, his heart and his brain are already a disappointment; I figure it’s only fair to target the rest of his organs one by one.”

“What’s next on the list? His kidneys?”

“Liver, actually – may he never drink at a college frat party!”

“Nice, nice.”

“Then kidneys as you said, maybe his intestines after that? His lungs will definitely be the last to go.”

It’s strangely therapeutic, listening to the order in which his ex’s organs are doomed to fail. Victor would never actually take active steps to further this agenda, but if any karmic entities are listening, he’d like to give them some pointers.

He spends the rest of the sunny afternoon with Yvonne and Kia, Paul and Salva choosing not to re-join them in favor of couple’s time alone.

Victor’s missed this, missed them. The comradery of years on a team together give them a steady base for their friendship, rhythms in each other’s speech patterns and a collection of inside jokes. These were the first people he came out to after Paul, even before Sebastian. There is no pressure to their relationship, only trust.

He’s missed their group coffee shop dates, the window shopping, the antics they come out with on the fly. They tease Kia about her luck with girls and ply Yvonne for the latest update on her novel. The girls both provide him with advice for how to deal with his crush on Duke, though their tactics are completely polarized.

Eventually, though, the afternoon starts to wind down. Victor has to go back to Illyria, and Kia and Yvonne hug him goodbye at the entrance.

“We’ll be here for the Illyria-Cornwall game,” Yvonne reassures him. “Right in time to see you kick some ass!”

“And that might not be the only kind of ass involved!” Kia jokes crassly, Yvonne chiding her as Victor splutters.

He watches the car until it passes the gates, then turns to head back to his dorm. He doesn’t even think of it as Sebastian’s dorm anymore.

The only way he can really think of it, he muses as he pushes open the room door, is home.

“Hey,” he greets Duke, noting his roommate on the other bed, a soccer ball twirling on one finger. “How – _oh my god!”_

“Oh, this?” Duke raises an eyebrow. “Turns out you were right about the tampon thing; they do really work for nosebleeds.”

“Are you hurt? What – I heard but I didn’t see -” Victor approaches his roommate in a fluster. Duke waves a hand to the side to bely any seriousness, but lets Victor come close all the same.

“Justin was being his usual dickless self before I found you at the fair today. He was beyond nasty to your brother – you two are weirdly similar by the way – and Justin crossed a line, so I punched him. I started a fight and we both got kicked out, I’m sorry I didn’t see you.”

“That’s ok, Duke, just – the tampon thing? Bad idea. I got told the other day never to use absorbent materials with head wounds. Have you had any water since you got back, are you ok?”

“I’m fine, just a few scrapes, although I could probably do with some water.”

“Ok, sit down, just let me get you some, I’m sure I have some left in my bottle,” Victor scrambles into his rucksack. “And what do you mean scrapes?”

“Just bruises, I took care of them,” Duke reassures him. “I’m fine, you don’t need to worry.”

“Justin might be a dick, but he knows where to hit.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Duke lifts a hand to prompt a pause. His next words simmer with the undertones of protective rage. “Sebastian, did Justin ever hit you?”

Victor takes in a deep breathe to steady himself. “Just once. Right after I came out. My brother started the next fight.”

“Sebastian, what – did he hit you because you’re gay?”

“He hit me because as far as he was concerned, I lied to him and made a fool out of him, not that he needs me for that. He couldn’t deal with the fact that I’m trans.”

“Wait, but I thought that Victor was -”

“I’m Victor,” he confesses in a snap. “It was me you saw today at the fayre.

“I decided to take Sebastian’s place at school for three weeks so he could go play at a music concert in England. I wanted to help my brother, but mostly I just wanted to know what it felt like to be cis because I was so sick and tired of not being seen – there’s so many questions all the time, and I just want to play soccer with guys who didn’t care if I was born with a dick or not.

“I didn’t really think it through,” he admits. “I just wanted to know what it felt like.”

“Shit,” Duke breathes, his eyes studying Victor intensely.

“You can’t tell anyone!” Victor orders in a snap of judgement. “Sebastian would get kicked out of Illyria, and he already got kicked out of Cornwall fighting Justin and the boys’ soccer coach when heard what they’d done.”

“Wait, what did the soccer coach do?”

“I really don’t want to talk about that.”

“Ok,” Duke accepts grudgingly, though he looks like he wants to discuss it more. “That’s . . . can we just rewind to the part where you told me that you’re actually Victor?”

“I’m Victor Hastings, although my deadname is on all the legal documents. I’m Sebastian’s twin brother. You’re the only one in Illyria who knows.” He looks up at Duke with big, pleading eyes. “Please don’t tell.”

“I won’t,” Duke says, and Victor senses somehow that it’s a promise.

Duke sits down with him, and Victor tells him everything.

* * *

Now that Duke knows, there’s a shift in their dynamic. The soccer gets more intense; their relationship off the pitch does too. Victor feels more tightly bound to Duke than anyone else before in his life. Certain things click for Duke, and he goes out of his way to check a number of boundaries instead of just going ahead with his usual patterns.

Once Victor has confirmed his boundaries, very little actually changes, but he gets to walk into their room with a new level of confidence, gets to take his binder off in his room without worrying. This is the place where he doesn’t have to pretend.

Duke guards the showers for him a couple of times so that he can take one after training; he doesn’t have to wear any bandages to their dark, one-on-one morning sessions – he can wear a sports bra! – and they’ve developed a couple of signals for when he needs help in a potentially dysphoric situation.

Toby and Andrew also notice the change in their dynamic.

“Are you guys dating or something?” Toby quips one time as they struggle through math homework together.

“ _No_ ,” Victor answers, too quickly.

“But you _want_ to,” Andrew prods.

Victor can only blush in response; he doesn’t trust himself with a verbal answer.

“Dude, that’s messed up if you’re still giving him advice about Olivia.”

“I’m trying to figure out how to tell him – it’s not like she’s interested in him anyway.”

“You better do it soon,” Toby urges. “It’s only gonna get worse if you wait.”

And really, there’s nothing Victor can say to that before Duke walks back in the room and he suddenly develops an interest in tangents.

They’re in the weights room, and Victor is spent. Duke helped him with his form and is now doing his own reps; they’re almost as beautiful as his butterfly kicks.

“Fifteen,” Duke finishes the set, replacing the bar and whooping with a rush of adrenaline. Or maybe it’s dopamine; Victor isn’t about to become a world-class biochemist.

“You’re a monster,” Victor laughs.

“Yeah, well, you asked this monster to train so that’s what we’re doing,” he grins back, wiping his sweaty forehead with a towel and chucking it at Victor’s face. Victor catches it and whips it at his roommate, starting a sort of play fight where Duke tries to simultaneously dodge the towel and catch it.

“Hastings!”

“Y-y-yeah, Coach?” Victor responds to the now-familiar bark, the pair of them halting their game to stand up straight under his scowl.

“First string for the Cornwall game,” Coach Dinklage hands over a red shirt, _Hastings_ emblazoned on the back in white font. Number 13.

“Really?”

“No,” Coach’s voice drips with sarcasm. “I was joking.”

Coach releases a breath and turns to go, leaving his players to celebrate.

Victor holds the shirt out, can’t stop looking at it even as Duke wraps his arms around him and congratulates him.

This moment is perfect. He’s on the soccer team. He’s in Duke’s arm. He wants to stay here forever.

And then Olivia comes over.

Victor tries not to show how quickly his insides go cold, but it’s not easy. Olivia is using every trick in the flirting manual, and Duke is bashful and tripping over himself. Victor hurts all over.

The anger comes blazing in as soon as she walks away. Duke is in disbelief, and Victor can’t believe it either.

A date.

Is she playing with him? She has no idea how much Duke likes her! And why now, of all times?

He makes a shitty excuse, not caring if Duke believes it or not – he’s probably too high on his luck to notice Victor’s reaction anyway.

“Hi, Olivia,” he chases her on the pavement outside, “can I talk to you for a second? It’s about your date with Duke.”

“Oh, I _know_ , I’m _so_ glad I listened to you!” _Lies, lies, she’s lying_. “You’re right! He’s awesome, and he looked so good in those shorts.” She fans herself dramatically.

He can’t believe it; he can’t believe her. He tries to damp down on the fury growing within him but he’s not sure he succeeds – he feels doubly terrible because of the possessiveness of his rage and the guilt that comes with it; Duke isn’t his or anyone else’s to be owned.

He’s still angry at Olivia though.

“He’s not a piece of meat, Olivia,” he states as calmly as possible. “He’s a person with feelings.”

“And I am also a person with feelings,” Olivia stands, blithely slipping out of the words Victor tries to impress upon her, “and my feelings seem to match his.”

“Speaking as a completely objective third party observer with absolutely no personal interest in the matter,” Victor stands to lean against the railings with her, “I am not so sure that you and Duke are a good idea after all.”

“Well thank you for your concern,” Olivia turns to him, a little patronizingly if he’s honest.

Victor is lost. She’s succinctly burned any scraps of argument he had left in his overly-stressed brain.

“You know,” Olivia turns to him, “if you’re so worried, maybe you should come to Cesario’s tonight; we could make it a double date.”

“Hey guys,” Eunice suddenly appears in Victor’s perception from the running track below, standing up on the railing ledge from her side of the barrier. “How are you?” Her words are directed at both of them, but the look she gives Victor is layered and meaningful.

Silently, he begs her for help.

“Hey Eunice,” Victor starts, “would you like to come to Cesario’s with us tonight?”

Eunice smiles at him before giving an enthusiastic response.

“I’m so there it’s insane!”

“Which one do you think?” Duke turns to Victor in their room, holding up two near-identical cans of aerosol.

“I don’t know, man,” Victor rubs his face and tries not to display his annoyance at the situation. “Which one smells better?”

Duke drops his arms in exasperation, letting his head roll back. “That’s what I’m asking you for!”

“Ok, ok, come here,” Victor takes the cans from his roommate. He sprays the first one on his hand and gives it a sniff. “Eurgh.” He sprays the second on his elbow and sniffs that. “This one,” he holds the second one out. “Ocean Storm definitely trumps,” he checks the label of the first bottle, “I don’t know what this is but it’s definitely not Cold Steel.”

“Thanks,” Duke takes Ocean Storm and transforms himself into its eye with the aerosol clouding all around him.

Victor chokes on it a little.

“Sorry,” Duke apologizes, bouncing on his toes. “I’m just nervous; I’ve gotta get this right, you know?”

“It’s cool, it’s cool,” Victor holds onto and rubs Duke’s upper arms to steady him, Duke breathing heavily. “Just remember, she’s a person, she likes people topics. People date for fun.”

“You can have fun and still be scared.”

“Yeah, theme parks have that effect on people,” Victor attempts a joke.

“Shit, should I have taken her to a theme park!”

“No, that’s not – _Duke_ ,” Victor orders, his eyes bearing into Duke’s. “Look at me. You’re incredible. You’re going on a date. I’ll be there, and we’re going to have an awesome time.

“You are a beautiful man and I guarantee that you are going to have more than one date in your life.”

“You think so?” Duke asks him so innocently it’s honestly a little heartbreaking. “You think I’ll get a second date?”

“I’m not a mind reader, I don’t know what Olivia will do,” Victor doesn’t want to lie, “but I know how much you are worth and I know how lucky anyone would be to be with you.”

“Really?” Duke checks.

“Really,” Victor replies steadily. _I know how lucky I would be to be with you._

Duke releases a sigh, hugging Victor tight for a few seconds. He’s jittery; Victor is too, but for different reasons.

“Thanks, Vic, I needed to hear that,” he says as he pulls away. “I’m gonna head on out now, are you coming?”

“Yeah, but I told Eunice I’d pick her up first, I can’t walk with you if you want to make it on time,” Victor says apologetically. “Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s ok – you’ve done enough,” Duke replies, grabbing his room keys and opening the door. He’s still a mile from calm, but he gives the impression of being more settled in himself. “I will see _you_ ,” he points at Victor, “in twenty minutes.”

“I’m sorry about this,” Victor repeats when he meets Eunice on their way to Cesario’s.

“You don’t have to keep apologizing, I did agree to this,” she reminds him. “You looked like you needed the out and I haven’t been to Cesario’s for a while; if I didn’t want to go, I would have cancelled before now.”

“Thanks,” Victor gives her a small smile.

“That’s what friends are for,” Eunice smiles at him. “I’m just grateful you stuck up for me.”

“I did?”

“That science class on the first day, when Duke was complaining about me being his lab partner.”

“You heard that?”

Eunice nods. “He’s not exactly quiet, or good at reading the room. You and Toby stuck up for me. Not many people do that. I know my own worth, and it pisses me off when people decide I’m not worth the same. You’ve never acted like I was less than anyone else. And,” Eunice turns to face him as they walk, “if you’re still worried about what I think, just set me up with on an actual date with one of your friends another time, ok? I’m looking for anyone cool with polyamory and long walks on the beach.”

Victor laughs. “I’ll introduce to my friend Kia at some point; she’s a riot!”

She smiles. “I’d like that.”

* * *

They’ve been sitting at the table for ten minutes, hardly a word between them.

_Think._

“Do you like . . . cheese?” Duke tries.

The effect is instantaneous and incredibly embarrassing; Olivia’s body language communicates very clearly that she thinks he’s lost it. How did he make this even more awkward? Duke leans further into his slouch.

“Hey,” Victor suddenly arrives with Eunice, tossing everyone a life jacket in a dismal ocean. “What’s going on?”

“You’re here!” Duke enthuses, bolting into an upright position, his arm going around the back of the booth behind Olivia and sending desperate _‘help me’_ signals to his roommate as Victor and Eunice slide into their seats.

“Waiter!” he and Olivia call at the same time. It’s the most they’ve spoken since they arrived.

“S-s-so!” Olivia proclaims perkily, getting the table’s attention, “I was just telling Duke how great it is to meet a real man at this school.”

What? Where is this coming from?

Duke tries to communicate his confusion with Victor, but he’s frozen and pale.

“Uh, you were?” he tries to take the focus off of his silent roommate.

“Well, I was just about to,” Olivia preens. “Isn’t it great to have a real man around, Eunice?”

“Men are great,” Eunice permits, but the look in her eyes suggests to Duke that something else going on behind that statement too.

“A real man is difficult to find,” Olivia turns back to him, her arms encircling his shoulders, pulling him close enough to kiss up near his ear.

Is this happening here, in Cesario’s?

She’s working her way around his jaw to his face – is this really happening? Duke is finding it hard to react; on some level he’s happy, but he’s also confused and they’re with two other people who look distinctly uncomfortable.

It’s happening – her lips have found his, and his are starting to find hers. Her hand is in his hair, she’s – he’s kissing Olivia, he’s kissing Olivia Lennox, should he still be thinking? He’s kissed people before, but why does this feel like kissing a shell?

“You know what?” The pair of them turn to see his roommate standing up, looking like someone sucker punched him in the gut. “It’s been real fun, but I have to – I have to go.”

He flees.

Before Duke can even attempt to follow, Eunice darts after him with a quick sorry, and for all that Olivia was sort-of kissing him just now she apparently decides that this pseudo-date is now a sinking ship and departs with everyone else.

Duke is way too hungry to work out what just happened.

He orders a pizza; everything else, he’ll figure out later.

* * *

Victor feels sick to his stomach as he leaves the restaurant.

“Victor?”

“I’m sorry Eunice,” he tries and fails to control the shaking in his voice, “I just – I have to be – I can’t, I’ll call you a cab, but I just really need to be alone right now, I can’t walk you back.”

“It’s ok,” Eunice says, already pulling out her phone. “I’ll call one myself and order a pizza to my place, and if you want to talk about whatever that was later and watch stupid films you can come over, ok?”

Victor nods desperately. “Yeah. That sounds, that sounds . . .” he nods again, trying to display at least a fraction of the gratitude he feels before his other sentiments overwhelm him and he runs off, leaving Eunice in the entrance lights of Cesario’s.

The kiss between Olivia and Duke, but also –

 _A real man?_ He wants to throw up.

* * *

“Goddamn it.” Sebastian’s phone is broken, for good this time apparently, and like an idiot he only has his parent’s numbers memorised. He knows Victor’s old number, but they changed that after he came out and he can only remember half the digits of the new one.

Whatever. They were planning to do the old switcheroo anyway when he got back, and it won’t even be that late by the time he arrives on Illyria’s campus.

He’s only back one day early. It’ll be fine.

* * *

_Why did she run? Why didn’t Olivia talk to him? What was he even there for?_

A quick motorbike ride doesn’t do a whole lot to clear his head, but it makes Duke feel better anyway. He’ll have to show Victor how to ride one properly when they have time – maybe with an older bike, though; Victor has shown a surprising propensity for clumsiness off the pitch. Maybe that’s where he is now? It’s the only place that Duke can think of, since he looked like he needed to let off steam at Cesario’s.

Duke wonders if there’s anything Victor loves more than football. It makes him snort to think of the guy’s face when he realized that he’d started grinding on coach that one time in practice, the first time he’d scored a goal.

They make an incredible team, and they’re going to smash Cornwall tomorrow, smash that stupid Justin Drayton and then after . . .

What happens after? How does Victor get to stay in his life? He’s become so immediately integral to Duke’s every day, and Sebastian’s meant to arrive and replace him? Like fuck.

It makes him angry, stupidly angry, that Victor thought no one would notice the switch. True, he’s never met the real Sebastian, so he doesn’t exactly know what to look for, but come on. How would someone not notice Victor? He’s loud and ridiculous and bold. Victor was born to stand out; he refuses to back down from any challenge, sets himself stupidly high goals and makes them anyway – how the hell did he manage to leap to first string in less than three weeks? For anyone else, that would be impossible.

Victor Hastings is completely, utterly impossible.

And Duke starts to realize that that is something he is incredibly attracted to.

_Fuck._

“Sebastian!”

Duke looks down to the Illyria car park below, sees his roommate get out of a taxi and look up when he hears Olivia’s voice.

She leaps into his arms. She kisses the boy known as Sebastian Hastings.

_He kisses her back._

And all Duke can hear in his head before he storms off are the alarm bells ringing _‘traitor, traitor, traitor, traitor.’_

* * *

Victor is breathless when he gets back from working drills at the pitch, sweaty and picturing what tomorrow will be like to wash out the images of the evening, how victory with Duke and his teammates at Illyria will feel. They’re going to win; he knows it!

He’s going to have to transfer here after the game, everything else can wait.

“Hey Duke,” he greets his roommate when he gets in, throwing his keys onto his desk. He’s feeling much better after running back. “What’s up?” he asks, noticing the stony way he’s sitting. Did the rest of the date go as badly as the start?

Duke leans back in his chair, but curls over himself like a wounded animal. Slowly, he swivels his seat to face Victor.

* * *

One second, Sebastian is getting out of the cab, the next, there is a beautiful girl in his arms and she’s kissing him like she’s on fire. What can he do except put his hands on her waist and kiss her back?

When she breaks the kiss, she whispers into his ear. “Wake up, I’ve been waiting for you to open your eyes so I can tell you that I think I’m ready, I’m ready to freefall into the unknown,” she finishes with a gasp for breath. Sebastian is pretty breathless himself.

“Wait -” he catches her arm before she runs off. “How did you know those lyrics? Who are you?”

She narrows her eyes in confusion, scanning his face for some sort of sign. “Sebastian, I don’t know what – oh my God you’re his brother!” She claps her hands to her mouth in realization. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize – oh my god!”

“It’s ok,” Sebastian attempts to placate her. “You didn’t know, it’s ok, you’re ok. You didn’t realize, you got us mixed up, it’s ok.” Under different circumstances, Sebastian would be incredibly happy– some part of his brain is still caught up on the rush of being kissed like that – but the kiss wasn’t meant for him and now he’s got to reassure her.

“I’m so sorry,” the girl says again.

“It’s ok,” he placates her again. “I’m . . .”

“You’re Victor.”

“Yeah, I’m Victor.” God, it feels weird to be saying that. “I’m actually here to see my brother, but I don’t know where the dorms are, do you think you could show me the way?”

“Of course!” the girl leaps on the call to action. “Again, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s cool,” Sebastian smiles. “I’ve been greeted by way worse.”

She snorts, whether out of amusement of lingering embarrassment, Sebastian can’t quite tell.

“It’s true,” he continues, waving away her attempt to help him with his bags. “I went to London, got my bags off the suitcase dispenser and got my cabin bag searched right off the flight – apparently American drinks are extremely suspicious in Europe.”

“Which ones?”

“Well the security guys didn’t like my Koolaid – I don’t know what they would have done if I turned up with root beer instead.”

She lets out a laugh, a real one this time.

“Is it true that in London they talk about the weather all the time?”

“Yeah, it’s super weird, and they almost never have sunshine – but hey, apparently the Queen is immortal so it’s kinda give and take.”

“I’d pass on the immortal monarch for sunlight.”

“Right?”

And just like that, they’re talking.

However she knows Victor, Sebastian is glad that it allowed them to meet – this girl is incredible. She’s sparky and lively and the feedback loop between them just keeps going.

“Well, we’re here,” she says at last, stopping outside a large building. “I’m not allowed in after dark – campus rules – so you’ll have to find the actual room yourself, but I reckon you can get there in one piece.”

“I don’t know, there might be a random British guy in there, waiting to ask if I want tea – I’m not sure I could survive more!”

They laugh again and stand casually with each other for a few seconds more before the awkward moment when Sebastian tries to wrestle his bags through the door – it’s a little sticky, so she holds the door for him.

“I’m pretty sure holding the door like that means you’ve entered the building.”

“Trespass is a dangerous act,” she concedes with a grin. “I’ll see you at the game tomorrow?”

“Game?”

“There’s a big soccer match, a rivalry game against Cornwall; your brother didn’t tell you? He made the team, you know.”

“I – I had no idea,” Sebastian admits, panicking a bit inside. Victor signed him up for _soccer?_ “I mean, my phone is kinda broken, I need to get it fixed, so . . .”

“Right, I get it,” Olivia accepts the excuse for what it is. “I really do have to get going now, goodnight!”

“Night!” he raises a hand as she walks away, leaving him to figure out what the hell his twin has gotten them into.

* * *

It's such _bullshit!_ Victor wants to scream. What the hell happened? What was Duke talking about? Why kick him out of the room? So what if the date with Olivia went to pieces? It’s not his fault, he tried really hard to stop the date from happening! What does he mean it’s like he never knew Victor? Duke knows _everything!_

What happened after he left?

He pulls out his phone to call Eunice, but he’s freaking out – she tells him to stay where he is, and she’ll come and find him.

“I just don’t know what happened,” Victor says later when they’ re sitting on the bench, having recounted the shouting match with Duke.

“What an asshole,” Eunice tuts. “He didn’t tell you what was going on or give you a chance to explain anything in return. Being the soccer team captain, you’d think he’d be a better communicator.”

 _“Soccer!”_ Victor exclaims in horror. “The match is tomorrow and I don’t – even if Duke wasn’t mad I don’t have my key, I threw it on the desk when I got in.”

“You can stay in my room,” Eunice offers. “I have a single room and a spare set of covers so you can at least have somewhere to sleep tonight, plus the rest of the pizza I ordered.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Victor gasps. He deliberates for a second before giving into the urge and hugging her shoulders, leaning his head against her. “Thank you – for the bed and the pizza, and for just . . . not assuming. Anything.”

“It’s OK,” Eunice puts a hand on his arm and leans back into the gesture. “That’s what friends are for.”

* * *

The morning dawns, and the traitor is in his bed, blissfully asleep.

Duke is angry, but he has more important things to worry about.

He storms past Sebastian and out the door.

* * *

“Sebastian?”

“Wha . . .?”

“Sebastian,” Eunice nudges his arm. “You need to wake up, the Cornwall game is in two hours. Do you remember what happened last night?”

“Yeah,” Victor rubs his face with a groan as it all comes back to him. “I remember.”

“Do you need any help getting back to your dorm?”

“I should be fine,” he scrambles to his feet. “Thank you for all of this, seriously.”

“Of course! No, leave the blankets to me, you have a game to get ready for – go!”

* * *

“Sebastian?”

His twin is dead asleep in his designated bed.

“Wha . . .?”

“Dude, what the fuck? I didn’t think you were getting back until tomorrow at least.”

“Change of plans,” Sebastian groans, “tried phoning but something’s broken, didn’t work. What’s going on?”

“I have a soccer match against Cornwall and I need to get going. For today, or until after the match, you are Victor, I am Sebastian, and my – your – roommate is mad and I don’t know why.”

“Beats me,” Sebastian shrugs.

“What happened to you last night? When did you get in?”

“Got a cab here from the airport, kissed a girl, she led me here.”

“A girl kissed you?”

“Identity crisis – thought I was you or you were me or whatever.”

“Shit – Olivia.”

“Whoever she was, she knew my lyrics, whispered them in my ear.”

“That’s definitely Olivia,” Victor groans into his hands.

“Dude, she’s like a dream, how do you – I – know her?”

“Science class, not important. I gotta find Duke and explain.”

“Explain what?”

“You’ve missed a lot. Get dressed and we’ll talk on the way.”

* * *

Principal Gold looks over his desk at the evidence Monique and Malcolm have presented to him.

“And you’re absolutely sure?”

“Yes,” the pair beam at him.

“You do realize the seriousness of your accusations, don’t you?”

“Of course,” comes the delightful reply.

“And yet you want me to announce this in front of the whole school, in front of the student’s family, friends and peers?”

“Naturally,” Monique practically fidgets with delight. Beside her, Malcolm is looking decidedly less sure as he regards the Principal’s expression.

Principal Gold considers them carefully.

“Do either of you realize the potential harm you are doing this student? The danger you could be putting them in?”

“Uh . . .”

“Excuse me?” Monique quips prettily with a twist of her head.

“Please explain to me why on earth I should take this private, sensitive information and present it to the public,” Horatio Gold stares them down. “Give me one single reason.”

They both seem surprised, as if they hadn’t considered their plan not working. Malcolm appears to be thinking deeply; Monique is intimately interested in her shoes.

“Now,” Principal Gold continues after a measured silence, “on this one occasion I will give you the benefit of the doubt that despite your intelligence, you did not deliberately attempt to incite the principal or any other members of staff to put a student in a position of endangerment to relieve a petty grudge. I trust that if you had any genuine concerns over the behavior of another student you would wish for this to be handled privately instead of resorting to public humiliation.”

“But sir, what if -”

“I will be having a conversation with young Hastings in the coming days to discern the truth of the matter. Until then, I have no wish to continue pursuing this issue; you are not to pursue it either, understood?”

“Understood.”

The replies come slower than Principal Gold would have liked, but they come all the same.

“No, leave that,” he tells them when they go to reach the materials they’ve brought before him. “You’ve done enough.”

* * *

Duke is ignoring Victor. He refuses to look at him in the locker rooms or when they’re getting face paint or when they’re warming up.

As far as Duke is concerned, there is a vacuum in time and space where Victor Hastings ought to be.

It’s just one match, Duke reminds himself. One match and then he’s gone.

* * *

Victor has a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. It’s like the butterflies he feels for Duke are being viciously set upon by a swarm of wasps. He can feel the anger rolling off of his roommate in waves every time he gets even vaguely close, but he can’t explain the damage if he keeps doing this, can’t just tell him to look up into the stands where Sebastian is sitting with Olivia who happened to show up right before the warmup and joke about how similar they look.

Duke once said that they looked weirdly alike, even if he was technically comparing Victor to himself at that point.

Victor has already explained the skeleton of the past weeks to Olivia – that he replaced Sebastian so that his twin could perform in London, and also explains that he – Victor – is gay, could she please look after the real Sebastian for today as a favor for him?

But Duke loathes the air he breathes right now, and Victor doesn’t know how to make a deaf man hear his cry.

* * *

“Welcome everybody;” the commentator’s voice resounds through the stands. “Today the biggest rivalry in our district is afoot! Illyria vs Cornwall; it’s gonna be something else and the atmosphere is crazy!”

“Afternoon gentleman, handshake please,” the head referee instructs the two captains as they stand ready for the coin toss at the center of the pitch. “Your call,” he gestures to Justin.

“Heads,” the Cornwall goalie responds flatly, never breaking from Duke’s glare. The Illyrian never moves, never flinches.

“Heads it is.”

“Stay as we are,” he chooses not to change the current initial setup. “How’s your jaw?” He mocks Duke, walking backwards after the referees have begun the jog to their starting positions; first he runs a gloved finger down the line of his own jawline then mockingly punches it; he points a finger and returns to the flanks of his own team.

Duke goes back to his own players.

“Alright, let’s get it up, get it up guys!” He hollers, emphasizing the rising energy in his words with his arm movements. His teammates echo his own electric drive back at him, crowding shoulder to shoulder to encircle him like an arena.

“I ain’t got much to say to you,” he says in a low voice, slowly building “except who’s gonna bring that blood and pain?”

“Black and red!”

“Who’s gonna bring that blood and pain?” He repeats, louder.

“Black and red!”

They call the refrain, again and again, their voices rising and swelling with each repetition until they’re practically screaming.

_“Who’s gonna bring that blood and pain?”_

_“Black and red!”_

_“Aaaaaah!”_ With one last cry, their circle breaks apart and disperses to their starting positions.

The whistle blows; the game commences.

* * *

Illyria start strong; the ball goes from Duke to Toby to Victor.

A player – Thomas, Justin’s friend – charges in for the tackle and for a split-second Victor can only panic that he’s about to be recognized. He makes a stupid pass; they lose the ball.

“Nice move, moron,” Duke cuts on his way back down the pitch.

The flash of anger that rises up in him at the remark knocks him out of the funk; _this is what he came to Illyria for_ – even if he gets caught now, he can’t waste it.

He charges back down the pitch and steals the ball back, booting it back up to Duke without a word.

Duke passes to Toby, Toby dribbles around two players, shoots – and is blocked by Justin leaping in for the save. _Asshole._

In amongst the tackles, the roughness, the sheer competitive brutality, it’s the closest either team gets to a goal for another thirty minutes.

There should be more opportunities, but Duke is acting as if they’re a man down and won’t acknowledge Victor’s presence; he shoots instead of passing and Justin saves another attempt on goal.

Victor doesn’t have time for this.

Illyria’s goalie saves them from conceding a point and when the ball is back in play, Illyria wastes no time. When Victor next receives the ball he outmaneuvers Cornwall and sends it to Duke. Defenders closing in, Duke executes his signature bicycle kick.

The result is spectacular; not even Justin can save it.

Illyrian supporters roar on the feet, ecstatic by the first goal of the match. The team pile on their captain, Victor hanging back a little to celebrate with the members of his team that don’t currently hate his existence, but even that can’t quite dampen the feeling of the first goal and the wild cries in the face of the opposition.

They have mere minutes left of the first half.

Back into the start position, Cornwall have possession of the ball but Illyria steal it back, Victor sending it up to Duke and launching himself into the open space.

He’s wide open, he has a direct line to the goal, he’s calling for Duke and being blatantly ignored.

“Duke! I’m open!” He shouts for his teammate. “Duke! Give me the ball! I’m open!”

Duke charges on, incited. The Illyrian captain opts for barreling through the defense instead of passing and, predictably, loses the ball. Victor is pretty sure he hears Coach Dinklage shout Duke’s name across the field, but there’s no time for that, they have to get back to defend.

They’re too late.

A Cornwall striker – Jason – has the ball, and his shoot lands squarely in the goal.

Cornwall erupts in festivity, as the Illyrians – Duke in particular – chew on their loss.

* * *

“What’s the matter with you, man?” Toby yells at Duke as they run the length of the pitch again, an Illyrian midfielder driving the ball up along with Victor. “Sebastian was wide open!”

“You’d rather lose a goal than let him score?” Andrew pins him from his other side between sharp breaths.

“Shut up, man,” Duke elbows off of him.

_Victor is going to leave anyway._

Somewhere distant, the whistle blows for half time.

* * *

_Half time._

Victor goes after Duke; the rest of the team gives them a wide berth on the way back to the locker room.

“Duke, I know you’re mad at me -”

“Don’t talk to me, man,” Duke cuts roughly.

“But you know what, I didn’t do what you think -”

“Get out of my face!” Duke bellows. Victor pushes against his chest, but Duke pushes back harder.

 _“Nothing is going on with me and Olivia!”_ Victor screams in his face.

Duke pushes him to the side and keeps storming towards the sidelines.

“What you saw last night, that wasn’t me, my brother got back -”

“Sounds convenient.”

 _“It’s true!”_ Victor jumps back in Duke’s path. “I would never do that to you!”

Duke scoffs, brushing past.

“I love you!”

He stops this time, and turns to look back at his roommate.

“I love you, you idiot! And I wouldn’t kiss Olivia because I only like men. I wouldn’t betray you, Duke. Look up there,” he points to the stands. “That’s my brother, that’s the real Sebastian Hastings. His phone is broken and there was a miscommunication and – I swear Duke, I would never -”

 _“Viola,”_ Justin seizes Victor by his shoulder and yanks him backwards, hard enough to throw him off balance. “Are you serious?”

“Back off!” Duke shoves Justin away with a snarl and steps in front of his teammate, giving Victor the space he needs. Behind them, Andrew and Toby start to notice what’s going on and jog back up to them.

“You’re gonna defend her?” Justin taunts.

“He’s more of a man than you’ll ever be.”

That’s all it takes for the tension to burst and fists are flying between the two captains again. Andrew and Toby dive between the pair, trying to separate them, but only add fuel to the fire as the Cornwall players return to back up their captain, and the Illyrians at the sideline for theirs.

* * *

Coach Dinklage doesn’t see what starts the brawl. He looks away from where Hastings and Orsino are sorting their shit out to his team as they jog back to the sidelines, then up to the stands where Horatio meets his eyes. His husband nods supportively, and Vinnie Dinklage can’t help but release a breath.

Then his husband looks behind him in horror with the rest of the crowd.

Dinklage turns to see what’s going on, snarls, and stalks on over to tear the brats apart.

He roars for the players not already involved in the fight to stay back before throwing scrapping teenagers to either side, ordering them to back off and back down.

At the eye of shit-storm are the two captains who seem like they’re genuinely trying to kill each other; the blows are getting nastier with every second, and they’re ignoring the other students trying to pull them apart.

“Get back!” He bellows. Hastings, Orsino’s two friends and the Cornwall players jump back to obey instinctively.

 _“Right!”_ he declares as he rips the bloody players apart. “You can play soccer, or you can get off my pitch! Is that clear?”

“Yessir,” Hastings replies, pulling back on Duke’s arm. The other students around parrot him, backing off.

Orsino and the Cornwall captain remain silent.

“Are girls allowed to play?” The opposing goalie smirks with a bloody nose.

 _“You shout your foul mouth!”_ Orsino attempts to launch himself back into the fray, but his friends hold him back in time, and Coach Dinklage blocks the path between them.

“Do you think you’re being funny, sunshine?” He turns on Cornwall’s player once he’s sure his own captain isn’t about to maul the other teenager.

“You have a girl on your team,” he cracks a bloody smile. “Viola Hastings decided to cross dress and play with the big boys.”

“You lying asshole!” Hastings yells, releasing his hold on Orsino so that Dinklage has to turn and manage them both. “Go to Hell!”

“Lift your top and prove it!” the Cornwall players derides. Hastings freezes, turning pale.

“You want a stripper so bad, you go and pay for one!” Duke hollers back in fury. “You leave him alone!”

Dinklage studies his players, studies the reactions around him and tries to hold in the annoyed sigh that wants to escape him. Horatio warned him about the kinds of allegations other students had recently made against Hastings, but his husband had wanted them handled privately. It seems that that option has now vanished.

“Everyone back to your benches,” Dinklage orders. “You stay here,” the Cornwall goalie smirks. “You come with me.” Victor goes even paler in response.

 _“Now,”_ Dinklage emphasizes with a bellow. “That means everyone, Orsino,” he reinforces the command when his team’s captain doesn’t move.

With a quick nod from Hastings, Orsino shoots one last deadly glare at the Cornwall captain and leaves.

“What’s going on, coach?” Coach Pistonek finally approaches, as casual as ever, like their students didn’t just attempt a very public display of murder. His gaze flashes over to Hastings, assessing him with an arrogant smirk that drops after a second. _“Viola?”_

“My name is Victor,” Dinklage’s player retorts. He can feel the kid shaking under the grip he has on the student’s shoulder, though he can’t tell whether it’s with fear or rage.

“I’m talking to my player,” Dinklage states. “You wait here with yours.”

He guides Hastings a number of paces away, then has the kid stand so that his back is to the Cornwall team. Horatio approaches them from the side.

“So your name isn’t Sebastian,” Dinklage divulges.

“No, Coach. I’m his brother, Victor.”

“Why did Pistonek and the little shit back there not use your name?”

“I’m trans, Coach. They don’t believe that I’m a boy.”

Dinklage has to work to withhold the flare of his anger. Fucking Cornwall pisstakes.

“Is that why you’re here? So that you can be a boy?” Internally, he realizes that’s probably not the way to phrase it.

“I’m here because I’m a boy and I want to be believed. I want to play soccer without having to explain everything. I don’t want to be deadnamed or harassed.”

“And you took your brother’s name to do that?” Horatio asks the kid.

“Yes, Principal Gold.”

“Well then that is very easily fixed,” Horatio ordains. “You’ll transfer to Illyria – using your own records – with immediate effect. We can arrange the paperwork later, if you wish, but there I see no reason to delay, Mr Hastings. We are happy to acknowledge you as a student of Illyria.”

“S-s-sir,” Hastings sputters. “Thank you.”

“Excellent,” Horatio accepts. “Now if you don’t mind,” he turns to look at Coach Pistonek, “I am going to deal with this.”

* * *

Pistonek and his goalkeeper are altogether too smug as Horatio strides towards them.

“Victor Hastings is in the process of transferring to Illyria,” he announces to the pair. “You and your team will respect his identity, or I will have you all removed from the grounds, rivalry match be damned.”

“Principal Gold,” Pistonek drawls, a disbelieving grin on his face, “that is a Cornwall girl playing on your team.” the Cornwall coach leans over Horatio condescendingly, which he doesn’t appreciate.

“ _He_ is an Illyrian - the paperwork is very recent.”

“If the transferal is not complete, then _she_ can’t play on your team.”

“And if you and your team do not respect my students, then you can’t play at all.”

“Is that a threat, Principal Gold?”

“It is a _promise_ , one that I made to my students, that they will never be threatened while under my care, _have I made myself clear?”_ He responds with icy intent. The Cornwall coach leans back lazily, trying to maintain an air of carelessness but crosses his arms defensively over his chest.

“You _will_ respect the identity of my students,” Horatio blazes on, “and this match will continue, unless you want me to file some interesting paperwork to the school regional district about child endangerment and abuse, not to mention abuse of power and inciting bullying. I can assure you, I have plenty of evidence and a large array of witnesses who will be delighted to back me up, so tell me Pistonek, what choice are you making?”

Coach Pistonek shifts awkwardly for a second. From over his shoulder, the goalkeeper looks at him questioningly, as if silently asking ‘are you really gonna let this guy talk to like that?’, even as the worry flashes over his features and starts seeping into his posture as he reads the situation.

“ _Fine_ ,” Pistonek eventually relents, turning around and stalking away with his hands on his hips like a petulant child.

“What?” The goalie trails after his coach. “Coach, you can’t be serious.”

“If you’re worried about being beaten then you can get off the pitch,” Horatio suggests loudly. “Forfeit.”

The kid shoots him a dark look before the Cornwall coach grabs him by the scruff of the neck and turns the boy back around to return to the opposing team.

Satisfied, Horatio Gold turns around and walks back towards his husband.

“What’s the verdict?” Vinnie inquires in a low voice, Hastings casting looks at them from the bench where his team has gathered protectively around him.

“Hastings is an Illyrian transfer student and Cornwall is going to respect his identity or I am going to bring the full force of the school district upon them,” Horatio intones rigidly, still wired tightly from the confrontation. “Otherwise, the match continues as normal.”

His husband nods. They’ll talk about it later, but for now Coach Dinklage merely whistles for his team’s attention and summons them to his side, Horatio peeling away to rejoin the crowd in the stands.

* * *

No one on the team says anything until Coach Dinklage speaks.

"Hastings, you’re playing.”

He sinks in relief, Duke smiling as he grips and shakes Victor’s shoulder. Around them, the team look at each other in confusion; even Toby and Andrew appear to have questions.

Victor looks at Duke, communicating through eyes alone.

_Do you think it’s ok to tell them?_

_It’s good; I’ve got your back._

“Hi,” Victor addresses them. “My name is Victor Hastings, and I’m trans. I’ve been using my brother’s name for the past three weeks so that I could play with Illyria against my old school, Cornwall, but now I’m transferring here under my own identity and I want you to know my real name.” He shrugs helplessly.

“Oh _shit_ ,” Andrew realizes, making wide gestures as he processes. “ _You’re_ Victor, that’s why you – _ow_.”

Toby cuffs him around the back of the head before he can finish whatever sentence he had been planning on.

“It does explain a few things, though,” Toby admits sheepishly.

Victor laughs. Andrew moves forward like he wants to go for a hug but then thinks better of it; Victor pulls him back in. Toby and Duke join next, and soon he’s at the center of a team huddle, laughing despite himself.

Eventually when they all let go, Duke speaks.

“It’s just like what my Dad used to say before every game,” Duke’s eyes meet Victor’s. “Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.

“The best chance for us to be great here today is to have you play.”

The team chime in with whooping agreement; Victor can’t help the stupid grin that slides over his face. He’s so relieved and grateful for this opportunity, for these people who have accepted him, for the captain who goes out to bat for him. He’s going to make today count.

The klaxons sound: time to go back on pitch.

“Hastings,” Coach addresses him, beckoning him to the side as he begins his jog back. “They give you hell, you give it back. If they misgender you, I’ll send them there myself. Now go – kick! _Kill!”_

It’s Cornwall’s start. Toby immediately manages to swipe the ball from them, passing it back to Victor who jumps to avoid a dirty tackle that would have wiped him out from the game completely.

The whistle blows, calling a foul.

Already, Victor can tell that this half is going to be very different to the first. At least in the open in front of the crowd there is only so much damage that they can do, and in soccer, Victor can dish some of the damage back. He takes great pleasure in barging through the defenders and passing to Duke, even though his strike is saved by Justin.

Victor’s message is clear: _try me, bitch._

He might be the most targeted player on the pitch, but that just makes the opposition sloppy and their defense is full of holes to the point where his friends start slipping in trick shots, just to rile them up. He guffaws when Andrew flicks the ball over Jason’s head, and when Duke does that ridiculous gymnastic-type throw in he has to fight the urge to roll his eyes fondly.

The only times the ball makes it into their defensive half is when Justin makes a freaky save and boots it down the pitch, but they always come back within a minute.

Even so, time is running out and they’re still at a draw – Victor has to beat these guys, or they won’t even admit that he’s their equal in soccer, let alone that he’s better. He storms up the pitch, weaving through the defenses without any need for backup until someone – he doesn’t see who, it doesn’t matter anyway – takes him out in the penalty box with a sliding tackle.

The sound of the whistle is immediate.

Groaning, he gets up.

“You ok?” Toby checks on him.

“I’m fine,” he reassures him. At this rate, it doesn’t matter if he is or not; he’s playing regardless, and the guy who tackled him gets a red card.

Less than a minute.

“The penalty kick will decide the game!” The commentator announces.

The ball is in position; Victor is ready.

Justin is saying something, probably taunting him, but honestly Victor’s opinion of him now is just pitiful. What a loser.

The whistle goes; he strikes. Justin deflects the attack, but Victor’s team is ready; Duke headers the ball back to him and he answers the call with a bicycle kick, sending the ball into the back of the net.

Another whistle. A great roar from the stands.

_They’ve won._

They’ve won. They’ve actually done it, _they’ve won!_

Victor can’t believe it until his teammates are lifting him up, shouting out _his name_ – “Vic-tor! Vic-tor!” – and something in him explodes; he cries out in defiance and triumph because people finally see him, and they won the most important match of his life together.

Somewhere distant, he thinks he hears Justin crying, but honestly? Victor’s got better things to do with his time.

He is going to relish in this moment.

From so much higher up, he can see his Cornwall friends cheering for him as they have for so long, can see Olivia and Sebastian whooping along with the rest, can see Toby finally approaching Eunice and the gentle shyness they both have for each other.

Today is amazing.

The locker rooms are cut off from the crowd; they echo with the cries of victory when he finally makes it in.

“Hey, uh, Se – Victor,” Andrew approaches him, “what do you want us to do about the whole shower situation?”

Victor smiles at the thoughtfulness. “Just turn around and give me five minutes.”

“You heard the man,” Andrew calls to the others, “give him five minutes!”

A team of high-spirited soccer players immediately drop their things and head back outside, all except for one.

“Want me to keep watch for you?” Duke Orsino asks.

“Yeah,” Victor assents, “but can you wait for me here? Like, turn around, but I want to talk.”

The sound of the shower water hitting the floor acts like a physical barrier. It makes Victor feel steady.

“I’m sorry.” Duke starts the conversation from ten feet away, his voice bouncing back across the walls. “I’m sorry I chucked you out last night. I didn’t give you any chance to explain, even though you always do, and I acted pretty entitled. The date wasn’t even that good.”

“It wasn’t?” Victor checks.

“I was . . . I guess I forgot that you can move on from crushes, and that you’re supposed to be able to speak to the person you like. Once we actually talked, I guess I realized that I didn’t have anything to say to Olivia.”

“Really?” Victor looks back at his teammate through the rivulets of shampoo running down his face.

Duke shrugs, his back still to Victor. “I guess I realized that I don’t know her, and that we just didn’t click. She seems nice and all, but I don’t think she’s too interested in cheese.”

“I like Gouda.”

“Yeah,” Duke chuckles. “It’s your favorite.

“If you stay in Illyria,” he continues after a pause, “would we stay like this?”

Victor feels his tongue go heavy in his mouth “Like what?”

The only sound is the rapping of water drops across the tiled floor; silence falls when Victor kills the flow.

“I . . .” Whatever Duke is trying to say, he doesn’t. Instead, he gets up, apologizes and leaves.

Victor is alone.

Principal Gold intervenes on Victor’s way to the celebrations.

“Young Hastings, I believe it is time for a talk.”

“Sir, I -”

Principal Gold holds up a hand, cutting him off. “I was originally planning to schedule a meeting with you on Monday morning to discuss an issue brought to me by another pair of students. They believed you to be your twin in disguise, which as you have since declared, is in fact true.

“Mr Hastings, you took drastic action in coming to this school and fraudulently imitating your brother – you said that it was because you wanted to be able to express yourself?”

“I – I wanted – I wanted to be me. I haven’t really had much of a chance before,” Victor admits.

“Did you succeed?”

“I – uh, yes?”

Principal Gold smiles. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Sir,” Victor asks cautiously, “am I in trouble?”

“Not with me. I shall act as your ally for as long as you need me. You came here to seek refuge, something I regard as a point of honor for my school, and after the display on the soccer pitch, I’m not surprised why. How long has that been happening for?”

“A while,” Victor admits, voice cracking a little.

“I take it that your parents don’t know what happened to you at Cornwall?”

“No – they don’t know about – they don’t know that I’m trans either.” It’s the first time he’s told an adult about his family situation since his initial coming out at Cornwall; so far, this time is going a lot better.

“Well, while I can assure you that you do not have to tell them if you do not feel ready or safe, you are welcome to tell them at some point on your own terms. It doesn’t have to be before you are independent, if that is what you wish.

“Furthermore, seeing as you will be staying with Illyria under your chosen name instead of returning to that trash fire of a school, we will be setting you up with counselling – one of our guidance counsellors is a member of the queer community herself so no need to worry.

“Now,” Horatio says with a smile, clasping Victor’s shoulder briefly in a display of support, “I suggest you think about the formalities later and go enjoy the victory party that I am supposed to know nothing about.”

“Sir – I -” Victor stumbles over his words “– thank you – but, but why?”

“Because, Mr Hastings,” Horatio Gold assures him, “we all deserve to feel safe and heard. _You_ deserve to feel safe and heard.

“You should make your way to the celebrations now; I’ll contact you about appointment times later.”

* * *

“Mom, I’m fine, stop fussing,” he takes her hands, gently removing them from his collar where she’s been adjusting his tie, convinced that the knot is just a _little_ out of proportion.

She’s . . . actually been amazing since he came out. She cried a lot and they had some long talks, but things are looking up. He has a brand-new haircut from Paul so he can finally ditch the wigs; he has new packers and binders, and the rest of the dresses have been banished from his wardrobe.

Both his parents – Mom especially – have been doing a ton of research. They know that a boy can wear a dress if he wants, but that it’s just not Victor’s gig, just as it isn’t Sebastian’s. She was actually able to find a suit company that specializes in suits for trans men; it was her main selling point in her new pitch for him to attend the debutante ball

“Debutante balls have historically been a way of presenting one’s self to the world,” she had reminded him with a flourish, “a ‘coming out’ of young people into society.”

Neither of his parents know the full extent of what happened to him at Cornwall, but Victor’s ok with that for now; there’s still a lot of talking and a lot of therapy left to be done, and it’ll happen with time. He reckons his dad already wants to file a lawsuit, and with the way his Mom raged at the debutante league to let him be included as himself, he reckons she’ll support him.

“I’m not feeling dysphoric,” he reassures her, “I’m fine.”

“And he has a beautiful escort to ensure that, if I do say so myself,” Paul approaches on Salva’s arm, releasing his boyfriend’s arm to transfer to Victor’s.

“Just for tonight, Cariño” Salva teases gently. “I’ll need my man back tomorrow.”

“You’ll live,” Paul winks. “It’s my reputation at risk, after all – would I not be classed as a loose man in debutante society, on the arms of so many suitors?”

Pauls mimics fainting, drawing a chuckle from his partner.

“I would take the risk of being associated with you,” Salva replies.

Looking at them feels bittersweet, the pangs of hurt and confusion from when Victor last saw Duke making their unwanted way into his throat. He excuses himself, leaving his friends and his Mom, now turned to help Sebastian with invisible dust on his suit so that he can be presentable while walking Olivia across the stage.

The gardens he ends up in are beautiful, carefully tended to like all things in this place. He’s alone again, which he feels like he needs right now – even if his mind takes him right back to Duke.

He didn’t come. Did he get the note? Sebastian said he did, but did Duke read it or just put it to the side and forget? Was asking him to the debutante ball too much? They didn’t really talk after Duke left him in the locker rooms, and he’s been so busy recently; officially transferring to Illyria, the counsellor’s appointments, suit fittings, paperwork to start taking testosterone and legally change his name, birth certificate and ID, not to mention moving into his own dorm room and going to his own classes – his timetable is different from Sebastian’s; he’s had to miss some of the group soccer practices (coach said he understands, since Victor is still doing some training on his own when he can) and Duke has been strangely absent from the training sessions Victor has attended.

It feels like there’s still a hole in his chest, despite all the good things.

Across the gardens, a shadow moves; hope flares anew.

“I didn’t think you’d show up,” Victor breathes, small smile dancing across his lips. “It really means a lot to me that you’re here.”

No response.

“Say something.”

“I gotta turn the sprinklers on,” the groundskeeper emerges from behind the tree with a helpless gesture.

Of course. Right. Victor mentally kicks himself. Of course Duke didn’t show up.

“Sorry,” he croaks and turns around, heading back up to the preparations.

Duke wasn’t there, Duke isn’t coming.

He really has given up when he spots the figure halfway up the path; this silhouette reacts to him and when he comes closer, the face is familiar.

“Hi,” Victor says softly.

“Hi,” his old roommate replies with equal softness.

“So,” Victor tilts his head slightly, hands held behind his back, “what brings you here?”

“A few days ago, someone scored the winning goal for Illyria in the soccer match against Cornwall,” Duke begins as they sway towards each other slowly. “And I can’t stop thinking about him. I really miss my roommate; I liked him a lot.”

“He misses you too,” Victor says, stopping just a pace apart from Duke. “You came.”

“I got an invitation,” Duke pulls it out from his pocket to hold it up, “and a massive cheese wheel to boot. You know anyone who likes Gouda?”

“I do,” Victor chuckles. “I like Gouda," he says, beaming. "I like you too.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Duke tells him with a smile. He gently lifts a hand to Victor’s cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “Hey, is this a new wig?”

“Haircut.”

“It suits you,” Duke admires. “Can I . . .”

“Mh-hm,” Victor nods, letting Duke carefully parse his fingers through his newly-cropped hair, threading his fingers in it, probably mussing it up in a way that’s much more Victor than fancy society life will ever be.

He looks at Victor in a way no one ever has before, like he’s made of stardust itself.

Under the safety of the night sky, Victor tentatively places his hands on Duke’s waist, the nerves finally steadying and he stops trembling. Duke stops dragging his fingers through Victor’s hair, letting them rest at the sides of his face. He leans his forehead against Victor’s.

There’s been a lot of talking recently, and there’ll be more to come, but it feels so good to take a moment to just _be_. Their breath mingles in the air.

The kiss that follows feels like starlight.

Olivia is presented right before him; she looks dazzling, and both her and Sebastian glow in each other’s company.

Then it’s his turn.

“Victor Hastings, escorted by Paul Antonio.”

He pauses for an instant, swelling with happiness on the inside. Behind the opposite curtain, his escort raises an eyebrow at the delay. Victor can’t resist teasing Cheryl once more.

“Victor Hastings,” she calls out again, a touch more frustration bleeding into her voice.

Victor decides it’s time.

When he and Duke meet center stage, they kiss again, to tumultuous applause from the crowd.

Walking down the aisle together, Victor takes the opportunity to wave at their friends; Paul and Salva next to Andrew, followed by Toby and Kia who sandwich a blushing Eunice, a beaming Yvonne completing the table. Elsewhere in the room, his mother beams with pride and his father raises a glass; Victor mouths a thank you at them – they’ve been incredible.

Right at the end of the platform, Victor can’t help but release another victory cry, hand raised high, Duke laughing along with him.

They’re two months from the end of the soccer season, and everyone is finally able to get together at Cesario’s.

Sebastian has his arm around Olivia in the corner of their massive booth – Victor would wager that they were the first to get there. Opposite them are Toby, Eunice and Kia, both of Eunice’s hands occupied by one from each of her partners. Yvonne sits next to Kia, debating soccer tactics with Andrew over the table; Paul watches them amusedly as he leans back against Salva.

“Did you get it?” Sebastian is the first to notice Duke and Victor’s arrival.

“I did,” he confirms, holding out his license for everyone to see the new shiny plastic denoting the male gender marker. A great cheer goes up around the table, Kia showing off her famous wolf whistle as they pass it around to see.

“The photo is way better, too,” Sebastian notes.

“Might be the T as well,” Victor grins.

“How many injections are you on now?”

“Four – once a month since our birthday,” Victor slides into the booth.

“He’s going to give me beard burn as well pretty soon,” Duke follows him.

“Remember you still need to groom a full beard!” Paul pipes up.

“Clean shaven is sexy too,” Salva plants a kiss on his boyfriend’s smooth cheek.

“The beard is gonna take a while, if it ever happens,” Victor shrugs, “but I will always be sexy.”

“I can drink to that,” Duke raises his cola. “To Victor!”

“To Victor!”

It’s been a long time coming, this joyful feeling inside of him. Victor has always known who he is, and now, at last, everyone else does too.


End file.
